


Queer Business

by orphan_account



Series: Whore 'verse [4]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Character Death, M/M, Prostitution, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-28
Updated: 2014-05-06
Packaged: 2018-01-21 03:27:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 23,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1535927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Between an identity crisis, almost killing his best friend completely by accident, and accompanying a murderer to Australia on a Muggle aircraft, the beginning of 2006 is something of a whirlwind for Draco Malfoy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"Draco, it'll be fine."

Draco sighed, taking one last glance up the street and tugging the hood of his cloak further forward before following Theodore Nott through the door of the unmarked and unremarkable building. Stepping inside was like walking through a portal between worlds, moving from the dark, drab streets of Knockturn Alley and into the well lit foyer of the brothel. Not that it was immediately obvious what the place was; the hardwood floor, the landscape painting on one wall, the reception desk and the leather chairs were all innocuous enough, and it suited Draco perfectly. From what he'd learnt in his careful inquiries, this was the cleanest and, most importantly to Draco, the most discreet brothel London's wizarding world had to offer. The last thing he needed was word getting around that the Malfoy heir was frequenting brothels, not when he was still distrusted so much. Apparently being a spy and even having Harry Potter himself speak on his behalf only cleaned away so much of the taint that Lucius had brought upon the Malfoy name, and there were plenty of people willing to believe the rumour that Draco wasn't a spy and had merely used dark magic to make Harry think otherwise.

And it wasn't like he did frequent brothels. This was, in fact, the very first time he'd ever set foot in one. He didn't need to visit brothels. Tainted name and Death Eater history or not, he was attractive, rich, and pureblooded—there were plenty of women more than willing to sleep with him. The problem was that right now he didn't want a woman. Not that he doubted there weren't plenty of men willing to sleep with him too, but it wasn't as simple as that. So here he was.

There was no one in the foyer when Draco and Theo entered, but the moment they approached the reception desk to one side a smartly dressed woman stepped through a door behind the desk and smiled politely at them.

"Good evening, Theodore," she greeted in a warm voice.

"Talia," Theo responded simply. "Brought a friend. Hope that's alright."

"Of course. If you'll come this way, gentlemen."

Draco hesitated again, but Theo shot him a despairing look and grabbed his sleeve, tugging him after them. Talia led them through the door to a short corridor with a second door at the end, which opened into a welcoming sitting room. There were a couple of women wearing nothing but short silk dressing gowns lounging on a sofa and talking quietly over drinks, while curtains hid the entrance to the rest of the building and flower-shaped lanterns hung on the staircase banister.

The women both glanced over when they entered and one of them immediately jumped up with a squeal and hurried over, throwing herself at Theo.

"Theo! You haven't been to see me in forever! Where have you been?"

"Here and there," Theo replied with a grin. "Are you free?"

"For you? Always."

The woman tugged him towards the stairs. Theo went without hesitation, looking around to spare Draco a grin and say, "Enjoy yourself, Drake," before vanishing after the woman without giving Draco chance to snap at him for the nickname.

"Can I get you a drink, sir?"

Draco looked at Talia and hesitated, but he was here now and he would have to show his face sooner or later, so he pushed back the hood of his cloak. The second woman on the sofa gave him an appreciative look and if he hadn't been so nervous about what he was doing then he'd have returned the smile and probably started flirting. "I'll take some wine, thank you."

"Of course. Have a seat, sir. I'll return with your drink in a moment."

She disappeared through the curtain and Draco sat. Almost immediately the woman across the room was at his side, a sultry smile on her face and her hand falling onto his thigh.

"Hello, handsome. Always a pleasure to have a man like you visit our establishment. I'm Jasmine."

"The pleasure's mine," Draco replied with a smile of his own, nerves eased slightly by the familiarity of a pretty woman paying attention to him. "But I fear I'm going to disappoint you this evening, Jasmine."

Jasmine opened her mouth, closed it, then smiled again. "Let me guess—come to indulge your... what's the polite term? Manly desires?"

Draco laughed softly. "Manly desires? I don't think that's how many people I know put it, but that's not quite what I'm here for. I just want to... explore."

Understanding came over Jasmine's face. "In that case, might I suggest you pick Adrian? You wouldn't be the first he's introduced to the delights of sex with men and I've never seen anyone leave his room in disappointment."

"I'll keep that in mind," Draco told her as Talia returned with a glass of white wine.

"Make sure you do. And if your... explorations... turn out not to be your taste, you can always come visit me."

She gave him one last smile and slid away. Draco watched her go then got to his feet, accepting the wine from Talia.

"I do hope Jasmine was making you feel welcome," she said.

"Very much so. Under different circumstances I think I'd already have decided who to spend my night with."

"Different circumstances?"

"She's, ah... not exactly what I'm looking for today."

"Ah! I quite understand. Are you looking for anything more specific? A certain build or hair colour...?"

Draco hadn't actually given it much thought. "Not really. But Jasmine recommended someone called Adrian...?"

"Oh, yes, Adrian's a delightful young man. I'm sure you'll be very satisfied with him, but please be aware that Adrian does absolutely no BDSM. Although we don't offer the extreme forms of that service, Adrian will not use even mild restraints. Is this acceptable to you?"

Draco nodded and Talia left to check Adrian was free, leaving Draco stood sipping his wine, looking around until she returned and said Adrian would see him. Nerves coiled in his gut as he followed her upstairs. They passed several doors, some open to show bedrooms and others closed. One opened just as they approached and a heavy-set man with a flushed face backed out, still kissing a woman in a lace underwear

Talia eventually brought him to one of the open doors, took his now empty glass, and gestured him inside. Draco stepped through, looking around the neat, tastefully decorated bedroom. He'd expected an over-abundance of reds and pinks, but Adrian's room was coloured in green, with pale wood furniture. Adrian himself stood to one side by a dresser, wearing a simple robe of dark green. He looked no older than Draco's twenty-five years, with dirty blonde hair hanging in soft waves to his shoulders and his eyes an unremarkable shade of brown. They widened when they first saw him and he couldn't help tensing. Adrian noticed, however, and smiled softly.

"Come in. I'm Adrian."

Draco cleared his throat and stepped further inside, shutting the door behind him. "Draco."

"It's nice to meet you, Draco. Would you like a drink or do you want to get straight onto business?"

Draco gestured vaguely over his shoulder. "I just had a wine. I don't think... uhm... but I'm not—that is... I, uh... this is my first time," he said eventually, flushing slightly at stumbling over his words so much. "With a man, that is. And at a brothel."

"That's alright," Adrian reassured him, moving closer until he stood only a couple of feet away. "Do you have an idea of what you want to do? Or would you just like to see how things go?"

"Sort of? I mean, I want to try... topping and bottoming? Although I've done anal with a woman before so that's probably not too different, right? And maybe... giving... oral? I just—I want to know what it's like being with a guy. Whether I find it... nice enough to, y'know. Have a relationship with someone like that."

Some emotion seemed to flicker in Adrian's eyes but it passed too quickly for Draco to really notice.

"Sure," he said, stepping closer and reaching for the clasp of Draco's cloak, undoing it and sliding it off his shoulders. "Maybe you'd like to start with receiving oral? It'll help with those nerves."

"I'm not—" he started to deny, but Adrian caught his gaze and Draco asked instead, "How'd you know?"

"You kept your cloak on all the way up here—you weren't sure you were going to stay."

"I suppose I have to now then," Draco replied as the material fell to his feet, leaving him in his shirt and trousers. He'd figured easy to remove clothes were best for the night's activities and relied on warming charms to ward off the winter chill.

"You don't _have_ to do anything," Adrian said, hands now pressed flat to Draco's chest, "but I know I'd like it if you stayed."

"Well I wouldn't want to disappoint you."

Adrian smiled so beautifully at him that Draco couldn't help smiling back.

"So," Adrian said, dropping his eyes as his fingers started to undo Draco's shirt, "do you want to start with oral and then maybe you could fuck me?"

"That... that sounds... good."

Adrian glanced up at him, leaning in to catch Draco's mouth in a kiss. Draco leant into it, noting almost clinically that kissing this young man wasn't that different to the various women he'd kissed, though now he thought about it he supposed it wouldn't be really. He took encouragement from it; he knew that when they actually had sex then it would be a lot different, but hopefully it would still be good.

He didn't realise they were moving until his knees hit the edge of the bed and he sat down suddenly. His shirt was opened now and hanging off his shoulders and Adrian dropped to his knees in front of him, hands deftly undoing Draco's trousers. Draco watched, but as Adrian pulled out his cock, Draco grabbed his wrists.

Adrian looked up and Draco thought he almost looked disappointed. "You don't want to."

"No—I mean, yes. I want to, but... do you?"

Adrian blinked at him. "You're paying—"

"I know, but I still won't do this if you don't want to do it."

"That's noble of you, but I do want to."

Draco shifted his grip to hold Adrian's hands instead of his wrists. "So why are you shaking?"

A slight flush rose in his cheeks as he glanced down at his hands. "I know who you are," he admitted. Draco let go of him as though his touch burned and started to rise. He wouldn't do this with someone who'd read the foul rumours printed about him and was going to spend the whole evening afraid that Draco was about to start torturing him or some other stupid thing.

But Adrian grabbed his wrists, holding him down. "No, not—I don't think badly of you," he said hurriedly. "I swear. Please don't go. I don't believe any of those rumours in the paper. I know they're not true."

"Then why are you shaking?" Draco asked again, voice colder now.

"Because... because I've wanted this for a long time," Adrian confessed. The colour flooding his cheeks was the only thing stopping Draco from scoffing at him. "I think you're gorgeous and I've fantasised about this for ages. I never thought I'd have the chance and now that I do... I guess I'm kind of nervous, which is stupid for a whore, I know."

He must have sensed that Draco was still considering leaving, because his grip tightened slightly and he looked up. "Please don't leave. I want to be the one to introduce you to this. Please will you stay?"

Draco looked into the wide brown eyes, staring at him hopefully while Adrian worried at his lip, the soft pink flesh caught between his teeth in the same way that a certain other brunette Draco knew tended to. It was that more than anything that made Draco nod. Adrian smiled brightly.

"Thank you."

A little embarrassed by his attention, Draco glanced away.

"You won't regret it," Adrian promised him, then he ducked his head and flicked his tongue against the head of Draco's cock, taking him by surprise.

"Shit!"

Adrian glanced up, clearly amused, but said nothing, just took Draco into his mouth while Draco watched avidly. He'd always enjoyed watching people give him blow jobs, loved watching them take his cock deeper while the wondrous sensation of a tongue swiped over the sensitive skin, and he found it no less arousing when the one doing it was a man.

And Adrian was skilled. Draco tangled his fingers in the man's soft hair, moaning appreciatively as Adrian worked his mouth and tongue in ways Draco'd never felt before. He'd had good blow jobs before, but this was incredible and he didn't think he'd ever find anyone else so good.

Just as he thought that, Adrian pulled away and Draco groaned, hands clenching in the man's hair.

"What are you doing? Don't stop."

"You want to fuck me," Adrian said, sounding irritatingly amused. "Unless you're certain you can get it up again, I shouldn't carry on."

"I can," Draco assured him. "I'll be fine, just please carry on."

Adrian shrugged. "Alright."

Draco's only response was a breathy moan as Adrian's mouth wrapped around him again. He really was amazing. How had Draco ever settled for such poor quality blow jobs before? He'd been sorely missing out and even if the rest of the night didn't work out, he thought he might come back here again just for this. With his eyes half closed, Draco could almost imagine the strands of hair between his fingers were brown instead of dirty blond, and with Adrian's eyes shut Draco could pretend it was a certain someone else's mouth wrapped around his cock with far more ease then he'd ever imagined it with women.

That thought was enough to drive him over the edge and he came with a shout. He slumped back on the bed afterwards, breathing hard and staring at the ceiling, and didn't move when Adrian crawled up beside him.

"You certainly enjoyed that."

"You're incredible."

"I know."

"That was the best blow job I've ever had."

Adrian blushed and smiled. "Thanks."

Draco glanced at him. "So, uh... is this when I return the favour?"

"If you want to. We can do whatever you want."

Draco looked him over, indecisive for a moment, then asked, "Actually, could you... fuck me?"

Adrian's breath hitched and Draco realised then that this man really did have it bad for him. He wondered whether it was really a good idea for him to be having sex with someone that'd clearly developed feelings for him. But, he supposed, it'd probably be rude to ask for a different whore now. As long as the guy remembered that Draco was paying for it and didn't get attached to him afterwards, it'd probably be alright.

"Sure," he said softly and leant in to kiss him. Draco brought a hand up to curl around the man's shoulder and closed his eyes as he kissed back, imagining someone else's face as he did. It was easier than normal and he found himself re-evaluating his opinion that kissing Adrian was no different than kissing women. He was harder, more... solid, Draco thought, and he tasted different. Masculine and a little salty from Draco's own come, but underneath there was a sweetness with a hint of peppermint, which was pretty much how Draco imagined Harry tasted after all that tea he drank.

He didn't realise he'd broken the kiss until he opened his eyes to find Adrian blinking at him then draw back.

"You're not interested," he stated simply. Draco couldn't tell if it hurt him and not. He was about to answer that he still wanted to try having sex, he just didn't want them kissing, but that wasn't what came out of his mouth.

"You're the wrong person."

Adrian smiled weakly. "Yeah. It's okay. You're not the first who's had that problem. Some people can pretend and it's enough, but for others..."

He climbed off the bed and turned away. Draco did up his trousers then stood and buttoned his shirt. Adrian had his back to him, standing by a dresser and fiddling with something Draco couldn't see.

"No charge," he said without looking around. "Blow job's on the house."

"Thanks," Draco said, feeling awkward now. He collected up his cloak, swung it over his shoulders and headed for the door, jerking it open but pausing when Adrian's voice called to him again. He looked around to find the man smiling gently, enough to ease some of the awkwardness lingering in Draco.

"You know... we do Polyjuice here," he said. "Just if you ever wanted to try again with almost the right person."

Draco nodded, thanked him, and left.

* * *

 

Harry watched Draco leave, the door clicking softly shut behind him, and sighed. He was an _idiot_. He should have sent Draco away the moment he recognised him. For two years he'd kept it secret from everyone that he was working as a prostitute. The only person who knew who he really was Talia. All his friends thought he worked as a Muggle security guard, and all the other workers at Talia's only knew him as Adrian.

And he couldn't let anyone find out. His friends would never understand why he did what he did, not after everything he'd been through. But this was nothing like all the times he'd been raped and forced into prostitution. This was his choice and he got something out of it—more than just money. Working as a prostitute was the only way he could know for certain what people wanted from him when he slept with them. When he'd finally dealt enough with what'd happened to him at Voldemort's hands to start dating, he'd always been paranoid and having sex again was difficult enough for him without the added difficulty of being constantly paranoid about his bedmates.

He didn't have that problem as a whore. People paid to fuck him, to use him, and he _knew_ it. There were no falsely uttered sweet nothings or tender touches intended to mislead, no dinner dates and difficult conversations. He knew exactly what they were after, he got to have the sex that he wanted, and as a bonus he got paid.

And there was the fact that he didn't have to argue with the niggling voice in his head that said he was a whore, because no amount of therapy or time was going to make that voice go away. As fucked up as it was, being the one thing he'd always been forced to be and hated was easier for him than anything else.

But he knew no one would ever understand that, which is why he should have turned Draco away when he turned up at Talia's, because he could not get found out. But some time in the past few years, Harry had fallen in love with Draco. He never mentioned it, didn't act on it, and knew he never could because Draco was straight and even if he wasn't, he would never fancy Harry.

Or at least, Harry had thought Draco was straight. Most of the old pureblood families didn't hold with homosexuality and while Draco dealt with him—and kept his mouth shut around Snape, Lupin, and the Weasleys—the idea of Draco being attracted to men was ridiculous. He'd never shown _any_ indication of being attracted to men. Had delighted, in fact, in bragging about his conquests with various women.

But now he was turning up at Talia's—and why, of all the brothels he could have picked, did it have to be this one?—saying he wanted to find out what it was like to have sex with another man. To see if he liked it enough to have a relationship with someone. He'd said that, as if he was actually considering the possibility.

That was the bit that really rankled Harry because he knew there was no chance that the person Draco was thinking of having a relationship with was him. It never would be, because Harry was a whore who'd been fucked by Voldemort and most of his Death Eaters, and Draco knew that better than anyone. He'd seen Harry tortured, tied down and raped, seen him beg to get fucked because lust potions burned in him, and no one who'd seen that could ever be attracted to him.

Which was why Harry hadn't sent him away. This was probably the only chance he would ever get to have sex with Draco (as a boy and not under the influence of lust potions) so he'd leapt on it. He'd given his best blow job, Draco being only the third person Harry ever wanted to go down on because it was still the sexual act he liked least, and he was glad he had when Draco decided to end things early. It meant that even though he wouldn't get to properly fuck him (because he wasn't the right person and didn't that sting like a bitch) he'd still given Draco his best and with any luck Draco would remember it forever, even if he didn't know that it'd come from Harry.

He sighed again, staring at his door. He'd only started work an hour ago and before Draco only had one client, a regular who didn't take long, just came in for a quick fuck before he went home to his wife. He wasn't sure he wanted to stay though. He wasn't sure he could fake the enthusiasm after what'd happened and he could easily pull a sickie and claim he was too ill to carry on working. On the other hand, leaving would mean going home to stew in his thoughts and he didn't really want to do that either. He supposed he could always go out, call Ron, Hermione, Fred, or George and go for a drink or something, but he didn't really feel like doing that either.

He went to the door and opened it then went back to his bed; an open door meant he was free. Maybe a few fucks would help him forget about Draco and the fact that Harry wasn't the right person for him, even if he was apparently the right gender.

* * *

 

It did, and it was almost three in the morning when Harry finally left Talia's, now wearing a cloak with the hood pulled low over his face even though he was still disguised as Adrian—it was just some facial transfiguration, a bit of temporary hair dye and hair lengthening, and some coloured contact lenses, though he'd removed those in favour of his glasses because they got itchy after so long. He moved quickly through Knockturn Alley, because it wasn't a place anyone lingered for long, especially not at this time of night, but he stopped short when an irritatingly familiar figure stepped out from an alley between a pub and a shop. The same alley where Graham Montague had raped him and Lucius Malfoy kidnapped him.

Harry didn't know if Theodore Nott knew this, but it wouldn't surprise him. Nott knew a lot that Harry wished he didn't and he seemed to get a kick out of knowing things he shouldn't, especially if he could use it against people, and he currently stood leaning against the side of the pub, a smirk about his lips as he stared at Harry. He was a man of average height, but his lean figure made him seem taller than he was, which was annoying because Harry's slim figure made him seem smaller than he was despite his being less than an inch shorter than Nott.

"Finished work for the night, Potter?"

"Not if you're here," Harry replied coldly. "And keep your voice down."

Nott's smirk only widened, but he pushed away from the pub and approached him. Harry resisted the urge to hit him or draw his wand and hex him. "It's not really _work_ if I'm not paying you for it though, is it?"

"Can we just get this over with? In case you hadn't noticed, it's early-January and fucking cold out."

"Good grief, Potter, have you never heard of warming charms?"

But he turned and stalked down the alley. Harry glanced in the direction of the exit to Diagon Alley, but he couldn't leave. Not if he wanted his secret to stay secret. So he sighed and trudged after the man.

"Did you see the guest I brought tonight?" Nott asked conversationally as they moved to the back of the pub.

"Your guest? What do I care—" He stopped short, staring as Nott turned and gave him one of his shit-eating grins. "You. I should have known. You brought him there on purpose, didn't you? Are you trying to get me found out?"

Nott shrugged carelessly. "Draco was the one that wanted a brothel. I just did what any good friend would do and told him which was the most discreet. He was dreadfully worried word might get out that the good Malfoy heir was visiting such establishments, you see. I guess I just didn't think that he might do as I did and figure out who you are." He affected a look of false pity. "How thoughtless of me."

"I hate you," Harry snarled.

"Yeah, I've heard it before, Potter. Are you going to get on your knees or am I going to have to make you... whore?"

Full of loathing, Harry dropped to his knees as Nott unzipped himself.

"Just get me ready," he said and though Harry had dropped his gaze from the man's face he could hear the sneer in his voice. "I intend to fuck you tonight."

Of course he was, because it was cold and probably going to rain, and the ground was rough and hard under Harry's knees, and Theodore Nott was a sadistic bastard.

But he said nothing, just opened his mouth and did what he'd been doing since he was eleven years old: sexually service someone he wanted to kill.

It didn't take long to get Nott to the point where he withdrew from Harry's mouth—there were advantages to be highly skilled at oral sex—but that did mean he was then ordered to drop his trousers before being roughly shoved forward, barely throwing his hands out quickly enough to avoid hitting the ground with his face. He didn't push himself up, just closed his eyes and ducked his head as he felt a wand press at his arse and heard Nott mutter the lubrication spell. He was the only person that used it on him; Harry insisted on using it from the bottle at Talia's. Graham Montague and the Death Eaters, and now Nott, were the only people to have used that spell on him so he couldn't let anyone else and not think badly of them.

His grit his teeth when Nott thrust into him roughly without preparation, but it didn't hurt that much and he was vaguely glad that he'd already been fucked that night because it meant he was already stretched. He ignored the sneered comments and insults—it was nothing he hadn't heard a million times before from various different mouths—but he paid attention when Nott's wand dug between his shoulder blades and a blast of pain shot down his spine.

"Fuck!"

He jerked, heard Nott grunt, and his arms slid out from under him, making him faceplant the ground and changing their angle enough that Nott's next thrust hit his prostate and he couldn't help the gaspy moan escaping him at the unexpected burst of pleasure spiking through the pain.

"Ah, fuck, _yes_ ," Nott hissed. "Merlin, I should have done that before. That's what you get for not paying attention, Potter."

"Maybe if you said something worthwhile, I might," Harry shot back, trying to shift himself back to how he'd been before, because he had to put up with Nott fucking him but he was _not_ going to take pleasure from it. "I heard more interesting things come out of Professor Binns."

He got another burst of pain for that, this one bad enough to wrench a scream out of him, but Nott came soon after and he was quick to pull out once he was done.

"You might want to remember to be a bit more polite to me, Potter," he said, rising to stand over him. Harry didn't move. Maybe it was because of the location, but he fully expected Nott to come back down on him and start strangling him even though Nott had never shown any inclination for such Muggle acts of violence. "I can still let the world know that their precious saviour is nothing more than a filthy whore, just like he's always been. Now, I think you have something to say to me."

Harry swallowed. This was what he really hated about Nott, the thing that made Harry want to really kill him, because he'd been sexually abused more times than he could count and he'd been humiliated and embarrassed for it, but he'd never been made to do anything like this. But it was this or have everyone find out his secret, so he pushed himself to his knees, lifted his chin, and made sure every ounce of hatred he felt was burning in his eyes.

"Thank you, Theo," he said, struggling not to sneer the words because he'd learnt from experience that that only made Nott flick his wand and create the sensation of a whip lashing against Harry's face, "for reminding me of my place."

Nott smirked. "Don't ever forget it, Potter."

He turned and stalked off, and it took all Harry's strength to not curse him in the back. If he wasn't afraid of being caught and thrown in Azkaban, he'd use any number of curses on the man, but he didn't want to go to jail so he just fantasized about hurting him while he tried to figure out another way to eliminate the threat he presented without everyone finding out what he did for a living.


	2. Chapter 2

Draco didn't often visit Harry's home. He didn't like all the glass and metal of modern Muggle architecture. That, and whenever he tried to use one of Harry's weird Muggle electronics they didn't do what Harry said they did and occasionally they blew up, which made Harry huff and grumble about repairmen and repair bills. He was also deeply suspicious of lifts, certain that one day they would shut their doors and refuse to open again, trapping the poor victim inside to get eaten alive. (Or starved to death, but he was almost certain the lifts were secretly sentient and ate their victims.) But it was that or climb twenty-three staircases and Draco'd had quite enough of climbing staircases after Hogwarts, and of course it being a Muggle building he couldn't cheat and bring his broom to fly up.

He visited in mid-afternoon, when he thought Harry would be awake. Harry worked nights as a security guard at some Muggle establishment—he claimed it was better for avoiding the press; Draco claimed he was sick in the head for working for Muggles—so he was rarely awake before midday, unless it was Sunday when he had to get to the Weasleys' for lunch.

He looked to have only just woken when he answered the door to Draco's knock, hair even more of a mess than normal and a scowl on his face, still wearing his pyjamas.

"What d'you want?" he greeted roughly

"Afternoon to you too, Potter. Can I come in?"

For a moment he thought Harry was actually going to say no, but then he stepped back and opened the door wider. Draco entered, eying his friend with a frown as Harry shut the door and slouched through to his kitchen with barely a glance at Draco. Draco followed.

"Did I wake you?"

"No," Harry answered shortly, going to the kettle and filling it with water then setting it to boil. Not with his wand, but by placing it atop a round platform and flicking a switch. Electricity, he'd explained to Draco once; Draco still maintained that it was devilry. He didn't ask if Draco wanted anything to drink, but took two mugs from his cupboard and added a tea bag to each. Draco had been raised to believe that only peasants (i.e. Muggleborns and blood traitors) drank tea brewed with bags. After his first time drinking some, he decided he should never admit to his mother that he found it preferable to that brewed with leaves.

"You alright?" he asked, slipping onto one of Harry's breakfast bar stools and watching him add bread to the toaster. (Evil device; Draco tried using it once and ended up with two blackened slices. Harry hadn't appreciated him hexing the thing in retaliation; Draco hadn't appreciated the toaster blowing up when he hexed it and taking his eyebrows with it.)

"Fine," Harry answered, opening the fridge (more electricity, and how was it that this electricity could make things hot in the toaster but keep them cool in the fridge? Clearly: devilry) to grab a tub of butter.

"Right. Just, if you don't want me here then you can just say so."

Harry slammed the fridge shut then sighed. "Sorry. Rough night."

"What, spending all night patrolling an empty building?"

Harry grunted. The kettle whistled, the switch flicked, and Harry took it, pouring boiling water into the two mugs. "How was your night?"

"Fine. Went out with Theo."

Harry's mouth twisted into a scowl as he turned and handed one of the mugs to Draco. "Don't see why you hang out with him."

"He says the same about you. I don't know what you've got against him anyway; you barely even know him."

Harry opened his mouth then shut it again without saying anything. He turned away as his toast popped and Draco frowned at his back as Harry began buttering.

"What were you going to say?"

"Nothing."

"No, come on, what was it? Do you know something about him?"

"Nothing," he said again. "As you pointed out, I barely know him. What did you do?"

"What?"

"Last night. What did you do? Go to a club?"

"Er... yeah. New place in Celeste Alley."

"Fun?"

Draco shrugged, looking down at his tea and swirling it. "Not really."

"Won't be going again then?"

"I don't know, maybe. Not sure I was really in the right mood last night, that's all. Might try again another time. I use your bathroom?"

Harry nodded and Draco slid off the stool, moving through to the living room—which, admittedly, he did like about Harry's flat because it had a lot of large windows that gave an impressive view of Muggle London—and then down the hallway to Harry's bathroom. He didn't actually need to use the toilet, but Harry's question had reminded him why he came here in the first place. He _did_ intend to go back to the brothel; Adrian's parting comment had lingered on his mind for the rest of the night and by morning the idea was too settled to be ignored.

So he needed hair. He couldn't take some straight from Harry without awkward questions, but despite his appearance Harry did actually own and use a comb and there were several strands on that which Draco took and tucked into a small test tube he'd dug out of his old school potions kit. He flushed the toilet and washed his hands just to make it seem like he'd used it, and returned to the kitchen. He got there to find Harry now seated and munching on his toast while Remus Lupin sat beside him.

"Good afternoon, Draco."

"Afternoon," Draco replied simply. He didn't really like Lupin on account of the man being a werewolf, but he was Harry's friend and Snape's lover so Draco had to be polite for their sakes.

"We're going shopping for Severus' birthday," Harry told Draco as he retook his seat and picked up his unfinished tea. Draco paused.

"Bugger, is that coming up? When?"

"Monday."

It was Friday now, which meant Draco would have to do it too. He hated shopping on Saturdays because it was always so busy and almost everywhere was shut on Sundays.

Harry seemed to read his mind. "Want to join us?"

He didn't really want to join Lupin, but there was the advantage that Lupin would have better ideas of what to buy, so he nodded his agreement. They made small talk until Harry finished his breakfast then Draco and Lupin drank tea in silence when Harry went to wash up and dress.

The shopping trip turned out to be a thankfully simple affair. Snape didn't actually care much for birthdays (or Christmas, Easter, Hallowe'en, or any other time that involved 'unnecessary celebrations') so potion-related gifts were bought by all three of them. Snape might scowl and mutter about them giving him presents, but as long as it was something useful then he wouldn't complain too much. Lupin did leave Draco and Harry at a coffee shop for half an hour and went off to buy something he wouldn't show Harry when he asked. Draco really didn't want to know what it might be.

Draco went home after. He had dinner with his mother then retired to his room intending to spend the evening relaxing with a book. Unfortunately the tube with Harry's hair in it sat on his bedside table being immensely distracting for something so small and innocuous. He didn't intend to go back to the brothel tonight, but wait a few days. If he even went back at all. Polyjuice Harry was better than a random whore, but it still wasn't exactly Harry and he wasn't sure it would be enough.

But he had to try, he knew. He couldn't do anything with the real Harry, not until he was sure he could do the whole gay sex thing. He wasn't even sure if he was exactly attracted to his friend; that was the whole point of going to a whore. Draco had first found himself thinking about Harry in ways he probably shouldn't whenever Harry went out as a girl. It'd been easy to ignore then because he could put it down to the fact that Draco had had sex with girl-Harry, and the guilt of remembering that dealt with the unwanted thoughts, but as time went on and the press started to leave him alone Harry went out as a girl less and less—but Draco's feelings didn't disappear. In fact, after a while, the horny dreams began to involve less female Harry and more male Harry.

But he could hardly have a one-night stand with Harry to deal with his sudden lust. He wasn't totally sure a one-night stand would be satisfactory anyway, but a relationship with Harry was even more out of the question. It would hardly be fair for Draco to approach him and say, "Hey, I think I might be gay for you, do you mind if we try it out?" That would be a sure-fire way to ruin their friendship.

So he decided to try a brothel and see if he could handle gay sex, but that hadn't exactly worked out either. Even if this Polyjuice idea worked and he discovered he could deal with having gay sex, that was no guarantee he could do anything with the real Harry because there was the simple problem that Harry probably wasn't attracted to him. And likely never would be. After all, Draco had essentially raped him when they were fifteen and although Harry dealt with that enough to be friends—he'd never even once brought it up or blamed Draco for it, even during the times spent together while Harry was still prisoner to Voldemort—having any kind of sexual relationship with him was a whole different issue.

Maybe he could just keep stealing hairs and Polyjuicing whores, Draco thought, book abandoned as he stared at the tube. If it worked. He wouldn't know until he tried it.

And he couldn't wait, he realised. He wanted to know now.

* * *

 

He was a little worried that he wouldn't be able to get in without Theo with him, but Talia recognised him immediately and gestured him through to the brothel without hesitation.

"What can we do for you today?" she asked as she led Draco into the brothel's main entrance. There was no one lounging around there this evening.

"Polyjuice," he answered simply.

"Very well. Is the hair from a male or female?"

"Does it make a difference?"

"We prefer not to have workers change gender with Polyjuice," she told him. "It can be disorientating for them and thus detract from your own pleasure."

"Oh. Male then."

"I'm free."

He glanced up to see Adrian on the stairs, looking at Draco with flushed cheeks and lower lip caught between his teeth, looking as if he hadn't intended to speak up and wasn't sure if he regretted it or not. Draco wasn't sure he wanted to use him again, partly from awkwardness of abandoning the man so abruptly the night before and partly because he still wasn't really sure it was such a good idea for him to sleep with a whore who fancied him.

On the other hand, Adrian fancying him might bring an enthusiasm to the Polyjuice that'd make it all the more appealing.

"Is Adrian acceptable to you, sir?" Talia asked.

Draco hesitated a moment, but then nodded. Talia gestured to the stairs and excused herself to fetch the Polyjuice.

"I wasn't sure you'd come back," Adrian said as he led Draco to his room.

"I wanted to take up your offer," Draco told him. "Have you used Polyjuice before?"

"A few times. You know there's an hour's limit on it?" he said as they entered his room. Draco nodded. "We stop at fifty minutes," Adrian continued. "Being mid-coitus when it wears off isn't fun for anyone, and a lot of people like to leave before I change back to keep the pretence up."

Draco hadn't considered that. Would he prefer to leave with Harry's face the last he sees so he can keep pretending it was real? He wasn't sure. He thought he might actually want to see it wear off so that he wouldn't forget that however much he pretended, this _wasn't_ Harry because Harry would never have him.

"I'll think about it," he said.

Talia came with a vial of mud-coloured, treacle-thick liquid. Draco gave her the hair he'd stolen and watched the potion turn dark green after she'd added it. She handed it to Adrian, gave them both a polite smile, and left, shutting the door behind her.

"I drink it in the bathroom," Adrian said, heading for a second door in the room that Draco hadn't noticed last time. "You don't want to watch me change."

Draco nodded and watched the door click shut. He removed his cloak and sat to untie his shoes only to hear a crash and a thump from the bathroom. He paused, glancing at it.

"Adrian?"

He got up again and went to the door. He knocked, got no response, and pushed it open.

Adrian was on the floor, looking like Harry, but there was blood smeared on his lips and his eyes were rolled back in his head. The empty vial was smashed on the floor, green liquid splattered across the tile.

Heart pounding, Draco whirled and rushed to the bedroom's main door, yanking it open and sticking his head out "Help! Something's wrong, I need some help!"

Doors opened down the hallway and Jasmine, the woman who'd greeted Draco the night before, came out of the room opposite, tugging on a dressing gown.

"What is it?"

"I don't know," Draco said, panicked and gesturing to the bathroom. "He went in to take the Polyjuice, I heard a smash and when I looked in..."

Jasmine gasped when she saw Adrian, but reacted more calmly than Draco. "Eliza, get Talia!" she called to another woman who'd come to investigate then moved to drop down beside Adrian, pressing her fingers to his throat.

"He's got a pulse and he's still breathing." She looked up at Draco with accusatory eyes. "What did you do to him?"

"Nothing!" Draco insisted. "I told you, it was just the Polyjuice!"

She didn't look like she believed him and she wasn't the only one. Less than a minute later Talia was there with two heavy-set bodyguards, one male and one female, who didn't hesitate to grab Draco by the arms and shove him against the wall, pinning him there and ignoring his protests of innocence.

"I've never seen something like this," Talia murmured, inspecting Adrian. "He's never reacted badly to Polyjuice before and Clarissa has had some from this batch too. You, Malfoy—did you give him something or curse him? And don't lie, his life is more important than your fear of retribution."

"Nothing, I swear. He went to the bathroom straight after you gave him the potion. I heard a smash and a thump and when I looked in, he was like that. I didn't even touch him!"

None of the numerous people now crowding the room looked as if they believed him, but Talia didn't question him further. "Marie, Henry, taking him downstairs. Eliza, call Saint Mungo's. The rest of you get back to your rooms."

Draco was roughly hauled out of the room and downstairs, watched distrustfully by the onlookers. He didn't struggle as Marie and Henry half-led and half-dragged him to an office where they dropped him into a chair and told him to stay. He really hoped Adrian would be alright. Draco had never killed anyone before—not even when he worked for Voldemort—and he really didn't want to be responsible now. Clearly something had gone wrong with the potion and unless Talia or someone else at the brothel was trying to kill Adrian and pin it on Draco, something on Harry's hair must have caused the problem.

He was kept there for n hour, though it dragged out to feel much longer, and Marie and Henry didn't speak a word to him the entire time. Eventually the door opened and he twisted around to see Talia enter, Draco's cloak over one arm. Immediately he was on his feet, ignoring Marie and Henry's threatening shifting on either side.

"Is he alright?"

"He will live," she told him, handing his cloak over. "You're free to go, Mr Malfoy. The problem was not one you could have foreseen and I am sure of your innocence in the matter. However I suggest you don't come here again."

"But what happened?"

"I'm afraid I cannot discuss that with you. Marie will see you out."

He didn't get another word out of her. Marie took him quickly through to the front of the brothel, where she waited for him to pull his cloak on and watched him until he left. Feeling miserable and still wanting to know what the hell had happened, but resigned to probably never finding out, he slouched from Knockturn Alley to Diagon Alley, briefly contemplated stopping at the Leaky Cauldron for a drink but decided he didn't want the company, and Apparated home. He had alcohol there and getting very drunk suddenly seemed appealing.

But he entered the Manor and called the house elf only to get told that Remus Lupin had been by and left a message that Harry had been rushed to Saint Mungo's. He yanked his cloak back on and Disapparated again, appearing in the Saint Mungo's Apparition room. It opened into the main entryway and he was halfway to the front desk when he got intercepted by Lupin.

"What happened?" Draco demanded. "Is he alright? Was he attacked? I thought he was working tonight."

"He had an adverse reaction to a potion. This way."

They headed up the main stairs and came out on the third floor and Lupin led Draco to the first door on the left, which opened into a private room where Harry lay in a bed, unconscious and pale under the blankets, the bubble of an Oxygenation Charm on his face. Snape was in a chair by the bed, looking tired, and he greeted Draco with just a nod.

"There's some minor damage to his lungs," Lupin explained as Draco went to the side of the bed, looking down at his friend. "Thankfully nothing that won't heal."

"What caused it? What potion did he take?"

"Polyjuice," Snape answered, and Draco had to grab the edge of the bed against a sudden wave of dizziness. _It couldn't be_. "He took some with his own hair in it, which the body doesn't react—Draco!"

It was the last thing Draco heard before the dizziness overwhelmed him and he fainted.

* * *

 

Harry did not want anyone to find out this way. He didn't want anyone to find out at all, but of all the ways they could have, this really wasn't ideal. Mostly because being sick meant he was trapped in bed and couldn't escape their questions. He managed for the first few days because the damage to his lungs meant he couldn't talk much without getting out of breath, but once it eased to the point where he could manage without the Oxygenation Charm, Snape and Remus wanted answers.

He wasn't sure what Draco wanted; he hadn't come to see Harry except for once right after the accident, and Harry hadn't even been awake then.

"You lied to us."

It was the first thing Snape said when he and Remus sat down on either side of his bed. Harry gave him a side-long look.

"You find out I've been whoring myself out and that's what you've got issue with?"

Snape scowled. Remus cleared his throat.

"I think what Severus is trying to say is _why_ did you lie to us?"

"Why do you think?" Harry shot back. He thought the answer was pretty obvious and they must have realised because no answer was forthcoming.

Instead Snape asked, "Then perhaps you can tell us why you've been working as a prostitute."

That was the question Harry really didn't want to answer.

Remus leant forwards. "Harry, did someone force you?"

"No!" It came out harsher than he intended but he didn't apologise. "No, I haven't—it was my own choice, completely. Max knows about it," he added, and as expected that eased some of the tension. In Remus at least.

"You haven't answered my question," Snape said. "Why have you been doing this? After everything..."

Sometimes Harry really hated having father figures. He sighed, leaning his head back and staring at a spot high on the wall opposite him.

"Because of that," he admitted quietly. "Not because I think that's all I'm worth still—" though a part of him did, but he wouldn't tell them that because they couldn't understand that those feelings were never going to entirely go away "—but I just... I tried dating people," he explained. "Once I was ready again after Voldemort, but it was just... awkward. I didn't know if they were going out with me because they were interested in me, because they were interested in the Boy Who Lived, or because they heard the rumours and wanted to see if Harry Potter was really a whore."

There had never been anything concrete, not even a skeevy article from Rita Skeeter, but there were rumours and whispers on the street that he'd been Voldemort's whore. No one had ever outright said anything to him, but he caught the looks every so often and knew what people were thinking.

"Even with Muggles I was always paranoid that they were going to try and use me for something," he continued. "I went to Talia's the first time as a customer. I wasn't interested in a relationship with anyone, but I wanted sex so I figured I could just pay for it like most horny blokes because then I knew exactly what I was getting into, but I felt guilty."

"You didn't like using someone they way you'd been used," Remus figured. Harry nodded, still not looking at either of them.

"Even though they were clearly there by choice, I felt bad for doing it. And then, I don't know, I just got the idea somewhere that if I went back to whoring then I could get the sex I wanted _and_ always be sure of what the people I was sleeping with wanted. They were using me, but I knew that and that made it alright because I was kind of using them too. And it was _my_ choice." He lifted his head to look at them then because they needed to understand that part. " _I_ chose to be there so it wasn't like all the times I was a teenager."

Remus looked as if he didn't quite agree, but he seemed to accept Harry's words enough to not argue. Snape wasn't so mollified.

"And Max agrees with this?"

Harry glanced away. He was getting out of breath, but he knew he should probably answer. "I didn't say she agreed. I just said I'd told her. She's tried to convince me out of it more than once, but it's my choice and she knows that."

The only thing he hadn't told her about was the trouble with Theodore Nott, but he could handle Nott.

"Are you going to stop?" Snape asked.

"Because of the accident? Or because you know? In both cases: no."

Snape didn't look pleased. Remus stepped in before he could say anything more though.

"Harry, we just want to be sure you're safe. And happy. After everything you went through when you were younger, surely you understand why we're concerned about this."

"I do," he said softly. "I get it, Remus, but I promise you—this isn't like that. It's _my_ choice and I'm fine with it. I'm not being abused or anything when it happens. Talia doesn't put up with anyone hurting her workers. We make our own hours, within reason, and if we want to quit then we can. Really, it's not a bad place."

They seemed to realise that he wasn't going to be convinced out of it and conversation moved onto other topics until they left—mostly Remus talking so Harry could catch his breath again. After, Harry slept awhile, ate tasteless hospital food for dinner, and got a visit from Fred, George, Ron, and Hermione during evening visiting hours.

"Harry! I'm so glad you're alright, we were ever so worried," Hermione greeted him, looking like she was barely refraining from throwing herself at him. He held out an arm and she immediately bent down to wrap him in a hug.

"Good to see you breathing by yourself," George remarked, dropping a bag onto the table at the foot of Harry's bed. "Ced sends grapes."

"Are they safe to eat?" Harry asked as Hermione drew back.

"I did say they're from Cedric."

"Yeah, but you're delivering them," Harry replied with a grin.

"Probably shouldn't eat them," Ron advised. "Alright, mate?"

"Can't be any worse than what the hospital is feeding me. I'm fine. Getting better. Did I miss anything exciting at lunch on Sunday?"

He hadn't expected to hear anything more than the usual tales of Weasley bickering and Mrs Weasley's reaction to Ron's latest girlfriend, but to his surprise George and Ron both looked at Fred and Hermione, who looked at each other with soppy grins and held hands.

"What'd I miss?"

Hermione beamed at him. "Fred and I got engaged."

Fred's cheeks were red, but he looked pleased and Harry gave them both a happy smile. "Congrats. 'bout time."

"That's what I've been saying for ages," George said. "So, Harry, you going to tell us why you were drinking Polyjuice with your own hair in it?"

Harry grimaced. He'd really hoped they wouldn't ask. It was one thing for Snape, Remus, and Draco to find out about his job, but he really, really didn't want the rest of his friends finding out. They would understand even less than Remus and Snape did.

But he knew it was likely to happen, so he'd already prepared a lie. "Mix-up. I meant to put someone else's in. I was going out and didn't want to be recognised. The hair was just off some random stranger I bumped into."

"What happened to the girl routine?"

Harry shrugged. "Got old. And I didn't want to be a girl."

George looked like he didn't quite believe it, but they didn't question it further and conversation moved on.

* * *

 

He was released from the hospital the following Friday with strict instructions not to do anything strenuous for another two weeks. He didn't feel as cheerful about his release as he should, because it'd been a week and he still hadn't seen Draco. He wasn't even sure what he wanted to say to him because there seemed to a be a lot. He should probably explain why he'd been working at a brothel, unless Snape had already done that, but he also thought they should probably discuss the fact that Draco had nearly, if accidentally, killed him. Or rather, discuss the issue behind the accidental poisoning—namely, that Draco apparently fancied him.

Or at the very least, wanted to have sex with him. That was something Harry was still struggling to get his head around. After two years working at Talia's, Harry had come to realise that not everyone realised in their teens that they liked the same sex. He'd had plenty of customers of varying ages come to him stuttering about first times and exploration, and he'd sent off several satisfied blokes who were now rather more certain about their sexuality.

So he understood Draco having questions about his sexuality, especially considering who his parents were and the fact that he'd been raised in a household that said homosexuality was something that should only ever happen behind closed doors, and even then it was something to be frowned upon. It made sense that he'd only start considering it as something acceptable after having a gay friend for a while.

But the idea that Draco's questioning would focus on Harry? That he would be attracted to Harry? He couldn't understand it. Draco knew what'd happened to Harry—everything, because Harry had once drunkenly confessed the truth of Sirius' abuse and what happened with Eric Nicholson—so why on earth would he be in any way attracted to Voldemort's whore? Harry had hoped, of course. Or wished, really. He'd fallen in love with his friend, but resigned himself to never being able to have him because Draco was straight. He vowed to never even mention it to Draco—or anyone else, just in case someone let something slip—because Draco might have put up with having a gay friend, but he wasn't likely to stick around if said friend fancied him. But Harry had known—or thought—that even if Draco was into boys then he wouldn't be into Harry. He was so convinced of the fact that being presented with evidence that suggested otherwise just baffled him.

There was something depressing about coming home from the hospital to an empty flat he found as he let himself in. Not that he'd expected to come home and find anyone waiting for him; all his friends except Draco had jobs to go to, Remus would be recovering from the full moon, and Snape wasn't the type to do welcome home parties even if he hadn't been with Remus. Alright, so maybe a tiny part of him had hoped to find Draco waiting for him with some chocolate, butterbeer, and an apology for not visiting, but he didn't really expect it so he was only a little bit disappointed.

But he tossed his keys into the dish by the door and moved through to the kitchen to find that he hadn't come home to an empty flat. Theodore Nott was bent over his toaster, prodding it with his wand. Harry really hoped it'd blow up in his face.

It didn't. Nott straightened, turning to face Harry with a cold smile.

"Potter. Nice to see you out of the hospital. Fully recovered, are you?"

"What the fuck are you doing in my home?"

Nott twirled his wand between his fingers and ran his leering gaze over Harry's body. "I heard you were getting out today. Thought I'd welcome you home."

Harry didn't even realise he'd gone for his wand until he had it in hand and half raised to point at Nott. "If you think I'm letting you fuck me in my own home, you can think again. Beside, I'm not doing this. They all know now; you can't blackmail me anymore."

"Hmm," Nott said, still looking calm. "Pity. Are you sure _all_ of them know? I figured Draco did, and Snape and his dog, but what about the Weasleys and Granger? No, I didn't think so," he said with a smile at Harry's expression. "I bet you _really_ don't want them to find out you're still just a filthy whore, so stop your posturing and lets go through to your bedroom."

"How about you get out of my flat instead?"

"How about I don't."

Harry narrowed his eyes and it was all the warning Nott got before he jerked his wand and cast a silent Stunning Spell. Harry had put up with Nott's cold smile and demands at Talia's, he'd put up with being accosted in Knockturn Alley after leaving and threatened into giving free blow jobs or the occasional fuck, but he was _not_ going to put up with Nott breaking into his home and thinking he could get away with his shit here.

Nott just barely dodged the stunner and flicked his own wand in a motion that vanished all Harry's clothes. He gasped at the sudden shock of cool air against his skin, but growled angrily and slashed his wand down, this time silently casting Sectumsempra. He was furious and defensive, and he was willing to use everything Snape had taught him when, paranoid and hurting and knowing his adopted father had once been a Death Eater, Harry had demanded to be taught magics that Hogwarts never would.

The curse caught Nott across the arm, deep enough to make him stagger and send blood splashing across Harry's breakfast bar, but not bad enough to put him down, and he realised that Harry wasn't playing. He managed to shield against the next curse Harry sent, but then he started throwing some of his own. The taps got hit with a deflected Blasting Curse and exploded with a burst of water, drenching them both. Harry used the fridge door as a shield against a jet of yellow that he didn't recognise, then sent the contents soaring towards Nott, pelting him with jars of mayonnaise, cartons of milk, and bottles of beer. Nott retaliated by hurtling glass shards at him. Harry didn't manage to shield against them all and several pieces lodged into his calves and slashed past his head. He set Nott's clothes on fire and used Accio to get the glass out of his legs while the man was distracted, but Nott recovered surprisingly quickly to the shock of being set on fire, and the water still spewing from the broken taps helped put him out quickly. His next spell hit the fridge door with enough force to blast it off its hinges and Harry couldn't move quick enough to avoid being knocked off his feet. He shoved the door off him and then—

" _Crucio!_ "

He screamed, arching off the floor as excruciating pain burst all through his nerves. He'd thought he'd never have to feel pain like this again, not since Voldemort died, and he'd forgotten just how all-encompassing and utterly awful it felt to have his bones set on fire and muscles turned to ice and liquid metal flooding through his veins...

Then, distantly, he heard another voice yell and the pain stopped, but not entirely. He could still feel it lingering inside him and his chest was tight, like a snake had wrapped around it and was trying to squeeze the life out of him.

"Harry!"

Draco appeared over him, eyes wide and face pale, but Harry couldn't respond. _Nothing strenuous for two weeks_ , he thought hysterically. A duel and the Cruciatus Curse probably counted as something strenuous. His lungs clearly thought so because they refused to work. He could feel his mouth moving and he was trying desperately to remember how to make his chest expand and inhale, but he was getting dizzy and Draco's face was blurring out of view and his chest really fucking hurt, and in the end it was easier just to let the blackness overcome him.


	3. Chapter 3

"You ready to go?"

Harry turned his gaze away from the window to look at Draco as he entered the hospital room. It was a almost three weeks later and Harry was finally due to be released again. The Cruciatus had inflamed all the damage in Harry's lungs caused by the Polyjuice, but he'd mostly healed. He still got out of breath if he talked for too long, but the healers had no reason to keep him in Saint Mungo's any longer when he could rest just as easily at home.

Except for that fact that Nott was still out there somewhere. He'd managed to get away while Draco was helping Harry and everyone seemed to think he was going to make an attempt to attack Harry again, even though no one had seen him since he fled. Harry had had one of his friends sitting in his room constantly since the attack, which he'd found kind of annoying to be honest. Nott was a sadistic bastard, but he'd never struck Harry as being particularly stupid and he hadn't been out to hurt Harry. Harry had been the first one to throw a curse and start their fight; Nott had just been there for the same thing he always wanted and had simply reacted.

But Harry was more than ready to leave the hospital and would be glad to never see the inside of one again. That was wishful thinking though; he had to be back in a fortnight to get a check up, and depending on how well he healed he might have to repeatedly come back to ensure his lungs weren't going to fail on him. The left in particular had been more damaged by the Polyjuice and the Cruciatus inflamed it to the point where it'd nearly collapsed.

"Severus and Lupin have checked your flat," Draco told him as they left, "and Severus has put up a mountain of extra wards to keep out unwanted visitors. Granger said your fridge was damaged beyond repair, but Mrs Weasley charmed your cupboards with proper wizarding cooling charms so you don't need to buy a new one. Granger is driving you home, by the way, in that _car_ of hers." He said 'car' the same way most people would say 'dog shit'. "I'm only allowing it because it's _minutely_ more dignified than the Knight Bus and you're too fragile for every other type of magical transport right now."

He carried on talking, but Harry didn't really listen. Draco had visited him daily since his return to hospital, like he was trying to make up for not visiting before, and he talked a lot, but never about the one thing they needed to talk about. If Harry could've spared the breath, he'd have made him talk about it before, but the hospital wasn't the right place. When they get to the flat, Harry might tie him down and make him talk then. It could be a lengthy conversation made longer by Harry's need to pause for breath every other sentence, but it needed to be had. Not least because he wasn't sure he liked the new, extremely talkative Draco.

Draco did shut up when they got in the car. He also looked a little green and he clutched the edge of the seat with white-knuckled hands. Harry found it odd that he should be so unnerved by a car when he flew brooms at breakneck speeds and Apparated without blinking an eyelid.

Both Draco and Hermione accompanied him in the elevator up to his flat, where he found Snape and Remus waiting. They had tea, throughout which Draco barely seemed to be civil to Remus and Hermione, but eventually everyone but Draco said they were leaving and Harry saw them all out, pretending not to notice the concerned looks. They all seemed to think Nott was going to leap out of the woodwork to assault him as soon as they'd left.

"I should probably go too actually," Draco said when Harry had shut the door. He stood in the middle of Harry's sitting room, looking unusually nervous. "Unless you want—"

"We need to talk," Harry interrupted, voice coming out weak as it always did now.

Draco swallowed. "About what?"

Harry just looked at him. Draco sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

"Right. My nearly killing you. I'm really sorry, Harry, and I know I should have come to see you earlier and apologise, and—"

"Draco, I don't care."

Draco blinked, opened his mouth, shut it again, and nodded. "Right. I'll just go. Don't worry, I won't come around again."

"No! I mean—Draco, that's not what I meant. I mean, I don't care that you nearly killed me. It was an accident, I know that. Neither of us could have seen it coming."

He had to stop to catch his breath then and sit down. Draco watched him with undisguised worry.

"You don't have to apologise for what happened at Talia's," he said quietly. "But we need to talk about it."

"Do we?" Draco asked, sounding vaguely desperate. "I mean... it's not like... we don't _have_ to—"

"Yes we do."

The energy seemed to just vanish out of Draco at that. He dropped into an armchair and buried his face in his hands.

"You weren't supposed to find out," he said, voice muffled.

"Neither were you."

"Well of course I wasn't. It's pretty clear you didn't want anyone to find out you were—" He broke off, lifting his head to glance up. "You didn't mean about the whole... prostitution thing."

He'd forgotten. Harry couldn't tell if the tightness in his chest was his lungs playing up or his heart breaking. He'd been so _stupid_. He'd actually dared to hope that they could discuss the apparently mutual feelings between them, but he should have realised that whatever Draco felt for him was nothing compared to what Harry felt. He should have realised that Draco was just dealing with some bi-curiosity and thought Harry would be a good person—or appearance, at least—to test it out on. He didn't actually feel anything for Harry, he hadn't even remembered what Harry had confessed while Draco still thought he was Adrian, and Harry was such an _idiot_.

"You're right," he said, getting up. "We don't need to talk. Go home. See you whenever."

"Wait, Harry!"

He ignored him, turning away and stalking down the hall towards his bedroom. He would not cry, not until Draco had left. This was another reason he'd turned to whoring in the first place. He wasn't actually desirable to anyone and he should never think he was; all it'd end in was heartbreak.

"Harry!"

A hand grabbed his arm and he jerked away, spinning around to glare at the other man. "Go away!"

"You're the one who said we had to talk."

"And you said we didn't. You were right, I was wrong. Just go away."

"No. And please don't cry."

He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to force the tears back. "Leave me alone, Draco. You don't want me."

"Don't...? Isn't that what this whole conversation is meant to be about? The fact that I do want you, but you don't? Shouldn't _I_ be the one getting upset?"

Harry opened his eyes and stared at him. "You?" he choked out. "You just want to _experiment_. You want to see what it's like to shag a bloke and you only tried to use my hair in that Polyjuice because... because... because I was your first," he said, and suddenly it all made sense. Of course that was why Draco had done it. It wasn't really about Harry; Draco just wanted his first time with a bloke to be the same as with his first time with a girl, and Harry had been that too. Hurt and furious, he reached up and yanked a few strands from his head, barely feeling the sharp twinge of them coming out, and grabbed Draco's hand, shoving them onto his palm. "Well there. Go back to Talia's and ask someone else to do it. I might be a whore but I'm sure as hell not yours."

"What—Harry!"

But he'd already reached his bedroom, slamming the door shut and casting the most powerful locking charm he could think off then added a Silencing Charm as well. Only then did he lean back against the wood, slide to the floor, and let the tears spill down his face.

* * *

 

_He sat on the edge of a bed, shirt opened and hanging off his shoulders, and Harry dropped to his knees in front of him, hands deftly undoing Draco's trousers. Draco watched, but as Harry pulled out his cock, Draco grabbed his wrists._

_Harry looked up, disappointed. "You don't want to."_

_"No—I mean, yes. I want to, but... do you?"_

_Harry blinked at him. "You're paying—"_

No, I'm not, why would I pay? _Draco thought, but that wasn't what came out of his mouth._

_"I know, but I still won't do this if you don't want to do it."_

_"That's noble of you, but I do want to."_

_Draco shifted his grip to hold Harry's hands instead of his wrists. "So why are you shaking?"_

_A slight flush rose in his cheeks as he glanced down at his hands. "I know who you are," he admitted._

Well of course you do _, Draco thought, baffled._ You're my best friend and have been for years. Of course you know who I am. Why are you pointing that out?

_But his reaction was to let go of Harry as though his touch burned. It was like someone else was in control of his body and Draco was just sitting in his head, watching through his own eyes but unable to interfere. It didn't make sense. None of his dreams with Harry had gone like this before. Normally they were already naked._

_But Harry grabbed his wrists, holding him down. "No, not—I don't think badly of you," he said hurriedly. "I swear. Please don't go. I don't believe any of those rumours in the paper. I know they're not true."_

_"Then why are you shaking?" Draco asked again, voice colder now. He didn't understand it. Why would Harry think badly of him? They were friends... weren't they? Harry liked him, he knew the truth about Draco that the papers refused to believe. He wouldn't think badly of Draco. Draco couldn't stand it if he did. He couldn't bare losing Harry as a friend._

_"Because... because I've wanted this for a long time," Harry confessed, colour flooding his cheeks. "I think you're gorgeous and I've fantasised about this for ages. I never thought I'd have the chance and now that I do... I guess I'm kind of nervous, which is stupid for a whore, I know."_

You're not a whore, _Draco wanted to say. He'd never called Harry that. He'd been very careful to never use that word to Harry._

_But he was a whore, Draco realised. That's what all this was. Harry was a whore and he'd been here before, in this room with Harry—no, not Harry, Adrian, who was Harry but wasn't and—_

_"Please don't leave. I want to be the one to introduce you to this. Please will you stay?"_

Draco woke with a gasp, eyes snapping open to stare through the darkness of his bedroom, unseeing.

_I think you're gorgeous and I've fantasised about this for ages... Please will you stay._

Harry had said that. He'd been Adrian at the time but he was still Harry. Those were Harry's words. How could he have forgotten that?

He shoved his covers back and sat up, running a hand through his hair. He knew how he'd forgotten it. He'd been so selfishly caught up in his own feelings and how he _expected_ Harry to react that he'd forgotten that Harry had confessed to wanting him too.

Draco sighed. It was just a physical desire though, he'd all but said as much. There was no way Harry wanted him for anything other than his looks, not given their history. It hurt more than he thought it would, but it made him angry as well. Harry had kicked up a fuss earlier and dared accuse Draco of only wanting to experiment with him, when Draco had done his best to keep things secret and explore the unexpected feelings he'd been having without it bothering Harry, and the whole time Harry was the one who'd been lusting after him for shallow reasons. Draco was the one having a crisis over his sexual identity, struggling with the mess of feelings he suddenly had towards his best friend and whether he was actually attracted to him or just attracted to the girl he'd sometimes pretended to be, not to mention the shame of being a pureblood young man attracted to another man, and the guilt of being attracted to Harry, who he'd raped and didn't deserve to have as a friend let alone a lover. And yet Harry had the nerve to be upset because Draco had forgotten that Harry wanted to shag him just because he was pretty?

He flopped down, staring at the canopy above his bed, but he could feel his anger fading as he remembered the fight—if it could even be called that. That wasn't really what Harry was angry about, was it? Draco forgetting the confession seemed to have been the trigger, but the real source of Harry's upset was what Draco wanted.

_"You just want to experiment. You want to see what it's like to shag a bloke and you only tried to use my hair in that Polyjuice because I was your first ... I may be a whore, but I'm sure as hell not yours."_

He thought Draco only wanted to use him. He probably thought, now Draco knew about his work at Talia's, that Draco was looking to do his experimentation with the real Harry instead of a Polyjuiced person.

 _Experiment_... he didn't like that. He wasn't looking to just experiment. It wasn't like he'd been wondering about the joys of gay sex and decided it was time to give it a try in between dating women. He was a _Malfoy_ for crying out loud. The first time he'd had a wet dream that involved Harry as himself instead of as a girl, he'd been horrified. It was one thing to accept that maybe being gay was alright for people like Harry, who was a half-blood and didn't have any parents to disapprove of him (excepting Snape, but he was queer too, and shagging a werewolf besides which was possibly even worse), and for the Weasleys who were blood traitors and so prone to deviant behaviour, but for someone like _Draco_...

But here he was, lusting over—no, if he was honest, and he had to be at three o'clock in the morning in the privacy of his own bed—possibly falling in love with his male best friend, and instead of doing the proper pureblood thing and ignoring it, or taking steps to distance himself from Harry and thus remove temptation, he was willing to find out if he could enjoy sex with another man on the very slightest, tiniest possibility that he could ever have a relationship with Harry, who he'd honestly thought would rather chop his own hands off than ever get intimate with Draco.

But why make such an issue out of it? If Harry only wanted Draco for shallow reasons, and he thought Draco only wanted him for shallow reasons, he had no right to make such a big deal out of it.

Unless he didn't want Draco for shallow reasons. But that was ridiculous. No one actually _wanted_ Draco for Draco. They just wanted to shag a pretty face, shag an infamous and possibly dangerous bloke because it was exciting, or marry a rich young pureblood to have rich pureblood offspring, even if that last one came with the taint of carrying the Malfoy name.

Harry couldn't marry him and he _certainly_ wasn't interested in shagging someone dangerous because he'd suffered plenty of that before, but if he also wasn't interested in shagging him just because he was pretty then that only left the option that he was actually attracted to Draco's personality. And they may have been friends, but Harry couldn't possibly want a relationship with him.

Could he?

* * *

 

Harry was mad. He had to be. Nott's Cruciatus must have mangled something in his brain, because it was the only explanation for why he sat on a bench in Hyde Park at eleven o'clock at night waiting for Nott himself.

It was a few days after his release from hospital and the letter had come that morning, a simply stated demand for two hundred and fifty Galleons, personally delivered by Harry without alerting either the Aurors or any of his friends, or the next morning's _Daily Prophet_ would have a detailed article about the Whore Who Lived.

But, as already mentioned, Harry had clearly gone mad because he'd done exactly as asked.

Nott was late. It was ten past the hour and bitterly cold, enough that even with a charmed coat Harry felt the sting of it. He was pretty sure Nott was probably somewhere nearby, no doubt checking to make sure that Harry really had come alone. He wondered if Nott expected Harry to do anything even alone or if he'd underestimate him. He really hoped Nott'd underestimate him. He'd come with a plan and, likely due to the newly developed madness, he was quite looking forward to it.

It was another twenty minutes before he heard the rustle of footsteps behind him and turned his head, only to have a wand tip press to his temple. He had to applaud the man for his stealth.

"I am shocked, Potter," Nott said quietly. "You really did come alone. Both hands were I can see them, please."

Harry slowly lifted them. There was a moment of silence then Nott moved around the bench and into Harry's line of sight, face dimly lit in the glow coming from the street lamps.

"Where's the money?"

"What do you want it for?" Harry asked.

"Funnily enough, I don't enjoy having the entire Auror division out for my blood after using an Unforgivable on their precious saviour. It was a mistake on my part, but you pissed me off. I knew you had money, and I need some to secure my way out of the country. I was thinking of leaving anyway," he added with a careless shrug. "I hear things are getting exciting across the pond—some kind of rebellion against the government. Sounds like fun."

"I'm sure."

"The money, Potter. Where is it? And no sudden movements."

Slowly, Harry reached into his pocket and took out the pouch of coins, bigger on the inside and charmed to be lighter and not jingle.

"On the bench," Nott ordered. "I don't fancy a sudden portkey to the Ministry."

Harry hadn't considered that and mentally kicked himself for it, but obediently set the pouch down. As he lifted his hand again, he made his move, first with a wandless, silent Summoning Charm that yanked the wand out of Nott's hand, and then an equally silent and wandless Levitation Charm that lifted the knife hidden under the bench until it hovered just in front of Nott, the tip mere millimetres from the other man's throat.

Nott went abruptly still. Harry got to his feet, drawing his wand and quickly casting an anti-Apparition spell to stop Nott fleeing.

"Wandless magic," Nott murmured. "I'd forgotten about that." His eyes flicked down to the knife then back up again. "Are you going to kill me?"

"Do you think I couldn't?" Harry asked back. "I did it to Voldemort."

"I'm not Voldemort."

"No, you're just one of his wannabe lackeys. I met your dad, you know, but you never did make it, did you?"

"You killed him before I could," Nott replied, managing to sound conversational. "I was due to be marked about a week later, in fact. Still, not being marked kept me out of Azkaban so I suppose I should thank you for the timing. But I really don't think you'll kill me, Potter."

"Oh?"

"No, because you were prophesied to kill Voldemort, and the man did lock you in a cellar for two years, but me? I just got a few freebies with a bit of blackmail. Hardly worth killing me over, is it?"

"You tortured me."

"You almost cut off my arm."

"You broke into my home. You've raped me repeatedly. You're just a generally foul human being, _Theo_." He paused, looking down at the pouch of money still on the bench then picking it up and returning it to his pocket. "But you're right, I won't kill you."

He floated the knife down, watched by Nott's wary eyes, until it pointed at his gut instead, and stepped forwards. Nott looked up, Harry grinned, feeling quite manic, and wandlessly stabbed the knife forwards at the same moment he wrapped his hand around it, so it touched their skin at the same time.

"I've got something _much_ worse planned," he said as the portkey activated.

* * *

 

Draco was brooding.

Actually, he was moping, but brooding sounded less childish. In either case, he was lying on his bed, staring at the canopy, and feeling sorry for himself. The morning after his late night realisation that Harry might possibly fancy him, he'd decided that he'd simply been tired the night before and it couldn't possibly be true. What he'd dared to think at three o'clock in the morning seemed stupid and ridiculous in the harsh light of day. Harry didn't love him. Harry couldn't love him, or feel anything more than friendship with him, because Draco had raped him, aided however unwillingly in keeping him locked away as Voldemort's whore, and almost killed him less than a month ago. That didn't even take into account the simple fact that Draco wasn't someone who could be loved, except by his mother but that's what mothers did so it wasn't the same.

But he didn't know what Harry wanted from him and he was angry that Harry had dismissed his feelings with such prejudice, so he'd refused to go visit him. For several days anyway, then he changed his mind, but only because he wanted to make sure that Harry was alright and hadn't been attacked again. (He conveniently forgot that if Harry had been attacked, someone would have told him.) He did _not_ visit because he missed him.

But when he went, Harry ignored him. Or perhaps he'd been out, but Draco liked to be dramatic and was almost certain Harry ignored him. Besides Harry was supposed to be resting, not galavanting about with the Weasleys or Granger (who was going to be a Weasley soon; Draco hadn't missed the ring on her finger), so clearly Harry was inside and ignoring him.

He heard the distant chime of the old grandfather clock and sighed. Bugger it all, he _did_ miss Harry and he wanted to see him. He wanted to explain himself and get Harry to explain himself, and figure out exactly where they stood with each other. Confessing to possibly being in love with Harry might earn Draco a broken heart when Harry said he'd never love him back, but if it at least fixed their friendship then Draco thought he might be able to deal with it. Sure, it'd hurt every time he looked at Harry and knew he'd never have him, but that had to be less painful that not being able to look at him at all because they were no longer friends. And who knows, even if Harry didn't love him, maybe he did still lust after him and might agree to some sex. Even if it was just once, that might be enough for Draco. He wasn't even sure he _was_ in love with Harry, on account of never having been in love before and not being entirely sure as to the requirements, and if he wasn't then sex with Harry might deal with the feelings he'd been having, the same way sex with a pretty woman usually left him satisfied and ready to find another one.

But whatever the case, he wanted to see Harry. Right now. He didn't care that it was one o'clock in the morning. Harry was used to working nights; he might still be up.

Draco hadn't changed for bed yet, so he only had to pull cloak and shoes on before Disapparating. He reappeared in the small park across from Harry's building and quickly crossed the road and went inside, riding the elevator up to the twenty-third floor. Harry didn't respond to his knocks, nor to pleas for them to talk, threats to break down the door, or apologies for upsetting him the last time they'd spoken. Eventually, wary of Snape's extra wards but determined nonetheless, Draco made good on his threats and broke in.

The flat was empty, which was cause for concern as it was, but what made Draco's heart skip a beat was the blackmail note he found on Harry's breakfast bar. Without bothering to leave through the front door, he clutched the note in hand and Disapparated.

* * *

 

Spinner's End was not the kind of place Draco liked to visit, because people like him simply didn't visit places like that, and he'd been there only a few times before. This time he barely noticed the rundown state of the area, too busy sprinting up to the door of number twenty-three and hammering a fist against it.

Snape answered after a minute, dressing gown tugged tight around him, wand in hand, and a dark scowl on his face.

"Do you have any idea what time it is?" he growled by way of greeting. Draco shoved the note in his face. Snape jerked back, blinking, then focused and read it, eyes going wide as he did. He grabbed Draco by the front of his robe and jerked him into the living room, gave a terse, "Stay" and hurriedly disappeared upstairs. Draco waited tensely for two minutes until Snape reappeared, Lupin on his heels, both dressed. Snape also had a road atlas, a vial of pale pink potion, and a paint brush.

"I put a tracking charm on Harry after Nott's attack," Snape said. "We can determine his location and go help him."

"What if...?" Lupin began, but trailed off. Snape understood his question though.

"If he were dead, I'd know," Snape said quietly, giving Lupin a quick, reassuring glance. "That's an entirely different charm."

"I'm fairly sure that's not a typical parental charm to put on kids," Draco said, trying to ignore the worry he felt.

"Potter is neither typical nor a child," Snape replied, kneeling and opening the atlas on the floor to a double page spread of the entire UK. "Now be quiet."

Draco did, watching as Snape tapped his wand to the atlas then used the paintbrush to smear the potion over the map. He started from the bottom and as soon as the potion passed over London a little glowing dot appeared. Without hesitation, Snape flipped through the atlas until he reached the pages focused on London, and painted the potion over them too. Eventually another dot appeared, this one a short distance from the London City Airport.

"Any idea what might be there?" Remus said.

"No." Snape considered it for a moment then said, "We'll Apparate here, to the Thames Barrier Park, check it out, and go in."

"Should we call for Aurors?"

Snape hesitated then shook his head. "No, we'll go alone. We can call for Auror help if need be when we get there."

Draco thought that calling for Aurors now was probably the more sensible option, but as they didn't tend to like him because of the unwanted tattoo on his left arm, he didn't argue with Snape's idea, just nodded his agreement and Apparated out with them.

Snape's Tracking Charm lead them to a large, run down abandoned building, and a simple revealing charm told them there were two figures inside. Lupin could smell blood (which Draco very politely didn't mention was creepy; he supposed werewolves had to be good for something) and Snape detected traces of Dark Magic, and they entered with the expectation of finding Harry badly hurt. Draco, whose heart was somewhere in his throat and his stomach was threatening to turn itself inside out because Theo was his friend and Draco had let him hurt Harry, even thought Snape might be prepared to go in and kill. But what they found made Draco and Lupin stop short, revulsion churning in their stomachs.

Theo was on the floor, clothes torn and covered in blood. All four of his limbs appeared to be broken, as well as several fingers, and there was a knife still sticking out of his stomach. He didn't look like he was breathing.

Harry sat on an upturned crate, his breathing laboured as he stared at Theo, hands smeared with blood and more splashed on his face and clothes, while his wand sat between his feet. He didn't look up when they entered, didn't react at all until Snape moved forward, paused to cast a quick spell on Theo that didn't seem to do anything, and crouched in front of Harry, blocking his line of sight to Theo, and even then Harry only blinked.

"Harry?" Snape said, voice gentler than Draco had ever heard it. "I'm going to put an Oxygenation Charm on you."

Harry didn't react to this statement, but when Snape cast the spell and the bubble appeared over his mouth, he inhaled shakily but deeply, his breathing eventually evening out from the short gasps he had been taking.

"Harry, what happened?" Snape asked.

"They died," Harry said tonelessly. Next to Draco, Lupin started, glancing around, and Draco did too, half expecting to see another body lying somewhere, but there were none.

Snape merely asked, "Who?"

"They died," Harry repeated as if he hadn't heard him, "but they never hurt. They were never punished, they never suffered. Not like me. I suffered and it's not fair. Shooting Eric wasn't enough, and Sirius killed himself, and Lucius killed Montague—" Draco hissed in a sharp breath, eyes going wide "—and stabbing Voldemort wasn't enough. They didn't _pay_. But this time I could. Just because I'm a whore doesn't mean he got to use me and shove me around and demand things from me and I'm sick of it, so I made him pay. I made him suffer like they all should have."

He blinked again, slowly like a man on the verge of sleep, and dropped his gaze to his hands.

"I have to go to jail now, don't I?"

Snape looked around. He caught Lupin's gaze and Draco got the impression that in just a few seconds, they managed to have an entire conversation, then Snape's eyes flicked to Draco, but only briefly, before he turned back to Harry.

"Not necessarily."

Harry glanced at him.

"Harry, I need you to listen very carefully to me right now, because you have three options." He paused and waited for Harry to give a small nod before continuing. "You can confess to the Aurors, they will arrest you, I will insist on a psych evaluation, and you hope we can get you a verdict of not guilty by reasons of insanity, which right now I think may be true, and you will likely get committed to a psychological ward for a very long time until you're deemed safe to rejoin society; if not, you'll spend the rest of your life in jail. Alternately, you can go home, let me clean up here, and never ever mention what happened to anyone but us three, leaving everyone else to think that Theodore Nott has simply evaded the authorities." He paused then and next to Draco, Lupin stiffened suddenly, turning his head slightly then murmuring, "Stay here," and loping silently back out of the building.

"The other option," Snape continued, dropping his voice as if needing to be quiet about it despite there being no one else nearby, "is you very quickly pack a few bags and flee, through Muggle means for safety's sake, to Australia."

Harry seemed to consider this for a moment—though Draco couldn't be entirely sure because his expression didn't change and he just stared at Snape—and then he asked, "Australia?"

Snape shrugged. "They speak English, they're not on the brink of rebellion like the yanks, and I hear the weather's nice."

Another moment of staring, then: "On my own?"

"No."

Draco didn't realise at first that it was him who'd spoken until everyone looked at him. Harry looked surprised to see him there, then he glanced past Snape at Theo and the surprise turned to horror.

"D-Draco," he stuttered, sounding suddenly dry mouthed. "I—it's—"

He broke off, swallowing audibly. Draco, trying not to look at Theo, moved forwards. Harry shifted as if he wanted to flee, but Snape grabbed his wrist. It made Harry jump, but he stayed where he was as Draco moved to crouch by Snape. Before he could speak though, Lupin ran back in.

"Option two is no longer an option," he said. "Aurors are here; we need to leave."

"Spinner's End," Snape said then picked up Harry's wand, tightened his grip on Harry's wrist, and vanished with a crack. Draco followed straight after them, reappearing straight into Snape's living room, where Snape and Harry already were. Lupin appeared soon after.

"Australia?" Harry said again, this time not a question of confusion but seeking confirmation.

"If you move to Australia, I'm coming with you," Draco said.

Harry looked at him without comprehension. "Why?"

"Because you're my best friend. I can't let you be alone."

"But I..." he trailed off, but his gaze dropped to his blood covered hands.

"He deserved it," Draco said with more brazenness than he felt. True, he did feel that Theo deserved what he got, but the man had still been his friend until a few weeks ago and seeing him dead at the hands of his other friend was something he would have to process eventually. For now, he was ignoring it as much as possible.

"Remus and I will come too," Snape said. "It would hardly be prudent to send you off with only Draco in your current state."

Harry's gaze flicked past them to Lupin, who must have nodded, because Harry's eyes then returned to Snape's face.

"Why? I deserve to be in jail."

"Do you want to be in jail?" Snape asked dryly.

"No," Harry answered in a small voice.

"Do you want to be in a psych ward?"

Harry just shook his head this time.

"Then we go to Australia. A fresh start will do you good."

Harry didn't look as if he quite believed this, but he asked, "How do we get there?"

Lupin cleared his throat. "I think I can help with that."


	4. Chapter 4

"Draco?"

Draco stared out the window of the safe house they were shut away in, looking across the dark field beyond, the sky lightening just slightly off to his left as the sun began to peak over the horizon. It was less than two days since Theo's death and this was the last time he would ever get to see England. In a few hours they would be on a plane to Australia; he and Harry were just waiting for Snape and Lupin to finalise a few things then the four of them would be heading for the airport. Draco wasn't sure if he was excited or sickened by the prospect of flying in an aeroplane; he was interested in seeing the passports that Lupin was acquiring for them though (apparently illegally, which gave him a little more respect in Draco's eyes; he hadn't thought the werewolf capable of it, but he was handling the entire situation with remarkable calm). Draco'd had to sit in a weird little booth at a Muggle supermarket to have his picture taken and he wanted to see what it was his motionless little portrait was being used for.

"Yes?"

"The first time you came to Talia's, you said I—Adrian—wasn't the right person," Harry said and Draco went stiff. They'd been simply polite to each other over the past two days and Draco had thought this particular conversation might at least wait until they were on the other side of the world. "I told you to use Polyjuice to get the right person, and you tried to use my hair. Does that mean I'm the right person?"

"I don't think this is really the time to discuss it," Draco said, voice coming out stilted. "We're leaving soon."

"Exactly. We should talk about it before we leave, because I want to know why you're really coming, and if we talk about it later you might change you mind and what to come back, and it'd be a wasted trip."

Draco couldn't really argue with that, but it didn't make him any keener to have this conversation.

"So?"

Clearly, however, Harry wasn't going to let it drop. Draco sighed.

"What do you think?" he said quietly.

There was no immediate response from Harry and Draco resisted the urge to look around and read his expression. He could see Harry's reflection in the glass, sitting on the ratty sofa, but not clearly enough to make out anything.

Eventually Harry asked, "But what does that mean?"

"What d'you mean 'what does that mean?'?"

"I mean... why was I the right person? Why... was it just... did you just want to fuck me? If the Polyjuice had worked, would you have done it and then that would have been that?"

Draco didn't know the answer to that, so he asked instead, "What about you?"

He could hear the frown in Harry's voice. "What about me?"

"You said you'd fantasised about having sex with me for ages. Was that true? Did you just want to have sex with me because I'm gorgeous and everyone wants to have sex with me?"

Harry's answer was quiet, but seemed to pierce right through Draco's ears. "No." A short pause in which Draco didn't know how to react, and then: "I wanted to have sex with you because I'm in love with you."

Draco put a hand out, pressing it flat to the window and focusing on the cool glass so he could ignore the sudden light-headedness.

"Why?" His voice came out raspy and weak, almost choked. "You can't possibly—after what I—I mean, I'm... _why?_ " he settled for saying again.

"I don't know. Because you're you. You're my friend and you're always there for me; you're annoying and an arse sometimes, but I like you anyway, and I know you'd never hurt me. You make me feel safe."

That was the most ridiculous thing Draco had ever heard, but his heart felt like it'd blown to twice it's size and a tendril of warmth had coiled somewhere inside of it, and he had the stupid urge to grin. He didn't, though, just ducked his head and tried to figure out how Harry had ever managed to equate him with safety.

"Are you going to freak out now?" Harry asked.

"Why would I do that?"

"Because a guy is in love with you and you're a Malfoy."

Harry thought he was going to homophobic fit of disgust at being the love object to another man. Draco supposed he shouldn't be surprised given what he'd told Harry about pureblood opinions of homosexuality.

"No, I'm not going to freak out."

"Okay. You didn't answer me," Harry added. "Why did you want to have sex with me? I thought you were straight."

"I am. I'm not queer, I... it's just you. I've never been attracted to blokes before and I'm _not_ attracted to blokes... I'm just attracted to you." He paused, swallowing thickly, but Harry had just confessed to being in love with him so he deserved the truth from Draco. "It started when you were going out as a girl. I just thought that's all it was because you're a—I mean, you make a pretty girl—so I ignored it, but then you stopped and I... I kept thinking about you. I'd have dreams of you as a guy and it's so fucking confusing and—" he stopped short of saying _wrong_ , because he recognised that that was an opinion not a truth. And it was an opinion he wasn't even sure was actually his, but just one of his parents' that he was spouting because they'd told him too.

He cleared his throat. "Anyway, I... I thought I'd try it out—I mean, try the whole gay sex thing—to see if I was queer," he couldn't help the slightly derisive tone of voice because he couldn't just shrug off twenty-five years of belief that being a Malfoy and queer simply wasn't acceptable, "but with you—with Adrian—it just... it wasn't right. I couldn't do it."

"But you could with me as me."

Draco sighed. "I don't know. Maybe? But I never wanted you to know, Harry." He finally plucked up the courage to turn and look at him. "You're my best friend and I didn't want you to think that—that I only hang around because I want to have sex with you, that I want to use you like the other bastards who've screwed you over."

Harry's brilliant green eyes seemed to darken behind his glasses as he looked up at Draco. "I wouldn't ever rank you as one of them," he said quietly, but with such conviction that Draco didn't doubt it for a second.

"I just... you're not an experiment, Harry," Draco told him. "I would never use you like that, not even a Polyjuiced you. I know I said I just wanted to try out the gay sex thing, but that wasn't—I didn't mean—Merlin this is all coming out wrong." He sighed, covered his face with one hand and left it there as he said, "I thought—think—maybe I lo- like you—" ( _coward_ , he thought bitterly to himself) "—but I wasn't sure and I couldn't say anything about that without knowing first."

Goddamnit, that did sound queer now that he'd actually said it out loud. Maybe it was a good thing he was running off to Australia. That way if it turned out he was queer, at least he wouldn't have to worry about confessing it to his mother. Not that he was sure she'd ever speak to him again anyway; she didn't appreciate hearing that he was running away from home with someone that the Aurors wanted for questioning in connection to a murder. Theo's death had been front page news the day before; there were no reports yet that the Aurors suspected Harry, but they had turned up at Malfoy Manor when Draco was in the midst of packing to ask if he knew where to find Harry.

"Well," Harry said, "maybe you can figure it out in Australia."

Draco didn't have time to figure out how to respond to that, because Lupin and Snape arrived then and it was time to go.

* * *

 

Draco didn't like planes or anything connected to them. Going through security at the airport made him feel extremely uncomfortable and he didn't trust the guards with their beeping machines and distrustful looks and Secrecy Sensors. (Metal detectors, Lupin called them, but they looked like Secrecy Sensors to Draco and seemed to do much the same thing.) He absolutely _hated_ waiting around for their flight to board, because there were screaming children, filthy Muggles, and more distrustful guards.

The only good thing about the airport was the Starbucks, which sold more types of coffee than any wizarding coffee shop Draco had ever been in, and he developed an unhealthy fondness for caramel lattes. Unfortunately this meant several trips to toilet. On his third such trip, he overheard an interesting conversation between two other gents and upon returning to the waiting area, he sat down and asked, "What's the Mile High Club and are there any benefits to us joining it?"

Lupin choked on the hot chocolate he was drinking, Snape's ears went pink, and Harry, for the first time since they'd found him over Theo's body, looked like he might want to smile. On the seats across from them, a teenage girl was watching with clear amusement.

"No, Draco, there are no benefits to joining the Mile High Club," Snape said stiffly.

"Oh, I wouldn't say that," Lupin said, dabbing at his chin with a napkin.

"What is it?" Draco asked. "You said we're flying first class, but if there are extra benefits to be had from joining this club, then we should."

It was Harry who leant over to explain in a whisper. He felt his cheeks go pink as Harry pulled back.

"Oh," he said and cleared his throat. "Right. No, won't be joining that then. When are we boarding?"

Draco also didn't like the planes themselves. He didn't understand how they could fly without magic, even after the rather mangled explanation of aerodynamics from Harry and Lupin (who, they both admitted, didn't exactly know how it worked either), and he wasn't encouraged by the safety and evacuation announcements from the flight attendants.

After they were finished and preparing to take off, Draco leant across the aisle to ask in a whisper, "Severus, if it starts to crash, can't we just Apparate out?"

"As long as you don't mind breaking the Statute of Secrecy."

Draco glanced to his other side, where Harry sat against the window, staring out at the runway, then back at Snape and dropped his voice some more. "We're aiding a fugitive from justice. Breaking the Statute of Secrecy doesn't really compare."

Lupin, on Snape's other side, leant forwards to say, "Wouldn't the risk of splinching be greater? We're in motion, strictly speaking, but relative to the plane we're stationary so does the warning against Apparating while in motion still count?"

There was a moment as the three of them considered that then Snape said, "We won't crash so there's nothing to worry about."

Draco wasn't entirely sure he believed that, but they started moving then so he had bigger things to worry about, like the fact that his ears were popping and he really, really didn't like it. Flying about in a metal box that weighed several hundred tonnes was unnatural and dangerous and he'd really rather be on a broom, even if brooms didn't fly halfway around the world in one trip.

The in-flight entertainment wasn't bad at least, for Muggle stuff. Snape had sternly vetoed any magical books or games, for obvious reasons, but Draco found the films to be reasonably entertaining. (Once he'd figured out how to make them work, with ample help from Harry.) He watched something called _Fast and Furious_ , which made him never want to get in a car again because they were clearly just as dangerous as he'd always thought, and _Batman Begins_ which he found himself unexpectedly enjoying. He ignored the kids section of the films, until he saw Harry watching _Finding Nemo_ and then he decided that if he'd sunk to the point of flying on Muggle aircraft, he could probably handle the shame of watching films for children. He wouldn't, however, admit to exactly how much he enjoyed _Finding Nemo_.

He managed to sleep only when they were over halfway there and exhaustion made it difficult to stay awake much longer. He was woken three hours later by Harry screaming in his ear, caught in the midst of a nightmare that he woke from only after Snape tipped a cup of water over his face. It took him another minute to realise he was safe on a plane instead of trapped wherever he'd been in his dream, by which time all of First Class and half the flight attendants were watching with fear and concern. A few snarky words from Snape made them back off though; one of the flight attendants had to go and reassure the economy class passengers that the scream was not the result of anything they had to worry about. But it had aggravated Harry's lungs and he was hyperventilating so Snape took him through to the flight attendants' area where he could calm down with fewer people.

"I'd forgotten how horrifying it is to hear him scream like that," Lupin murmured. Draco glanced at him; he'd been rudely yanked out of his seat when Harry started screaming and now sat in Snape's chair next to the werewolf.

"He's done that before?"

Lupin nodded. "Almost nightly after the war. It was months before he stopped and even then he sometimes still did. I suppose it'll start up again now after what happened. But it's a bit of a comfort in some ways."

Draco gaped at him. "Comfort? How can that be comforting?"

Lupin looked at him, expression grave. "Because," he said quietly, "it's evidence that he feels some remorse about what he did."

Harry and Snape come back half an hour later, Harry looking much calmer. He didn't say anything, but he nodded and forced a weak smile when Draco asked if he was alright. The rest of the flight passed unremarkably and Draco spent it lost in his thoughts.

He'd taken it for granted that Harry felt remorse for what he'd done to Theo because any normal person would feel bad about taking a life. The only people Draco had seen kill without any shred of remorse were Death Eaters, and the very idea that Harry would be anything like them was enough to make Draco feel sick.

But now that Lupin had mentioned it, he couldn't help wondering. What if Harry didn't? Draco had heard him when they found him; he'd wanted to make Theo hurt, to make him pay for abusing him. And it hadn't just been Theo. What Harry had done to him was what he wanted to do to everyone that'd hurt him before; Theo was just the only one he could hurt, the convenient victim to a lifetime's revenge.

Except Harry _had_ to feel remorse. He'd expected Snape to send him to jail, had said that that was what he deserved, so obviously there was remorse. Draco just had the sudden feeling that maybe remorse wasn't the same as regret. Was that what Lupin meant? Had he meant regret instead of remorse? Because as Draco looked at Harry, his head against the window and green eyes staring out at the clouds surrounding them, he thought that Harry did feel remorse for so cruelly harming another human being, but he wasn't so certain that he regretted it.

* * *

 

Draco didn't like Australia. It was hot, there were bugs, and most of the native non-magical creatures were more dangerous than the magical ones. There was also an over abundance of Muggles. Draco was used to living in the middle of nowhere where the nearest Muggles were at least five miles away, and all his socialisation was with other wizards, so the most time he ever spent around Muggles was getting trapped with one in the lift at Harry's old apartment building.

But they lived in Sydney now and Harry wanted to live in the Muggle area, which was admittedly safer because even Australian wizards knew what the Boy Who Lived looked like, especially after the international news proclaimed him officially a suspect in the torture and murder of Theodore Nott. Draco wondered what his mother thought of that and thought of her son being in cahoots with a wanted murderer, but he couldn't find out. Snape had been very clear that he wasn't to send any post to his mother for at least two months because he was too well known as both Harry and Theo's friend, and the Aurors might be watching for communications that would lead them to Harry.

He briefly wondered what the Weasleys thought of it, but didn't care enough to linger on the issue for long.

They didn't have to worry about money, at least, what with Harry and Draco both possessing substantial fortunes. Not only was Gringotts international, but the goblins were wonderfully uncooperative when it came to matters of human law. They wouldn't lock down any of their vaults until one of them was arrested and imprisoned, nor would they tell the authorities where withdrawals were being made so they could be safe in that regard. Lupin still got himself a job at a Muggle store selling old records and Draco was pretty sure Snape was selling illegal potions to earn a bit of income because he brewed _a lot_ , more than was necessary for Lupin's Wolfsbane, his own potions that Draco hadn't realised he needed to make sure his transplanted heart continued to work, and the anti-depressants that Harry had been taking for years. Draco didn't feel it was necessary for himself to find any kind of work, primarily because he'd put the most towards buying their three bedroom, two bathroom bungalow.

But he couldn't complain too much. Sure, he had to lather on massive amounts of suncream before he went outside or risk looking like a tomato with hair, and he had to give up his robes because even though cooling charms kept him from overheating it didn't keep Muggles from staring and, occasionally, walking up and commenting on how hot he must be, and it was a bit weird to share a house with Snape and Lupin, but he had Harry, and Harry...

Harry _thrived_. It was like Sydney had given him an entirely new lease of life. Draco knew Snape and Lupin were concerned, expecting Harry to come crashing down with crippling depression sooner or later, but for now he seemed, while not precisely happy, more content than Draco had ever seen him in England. He wore shorts and t-shirt and flip flops to lounge on a beach for hours, he got into conversations with the locals at coffee shops about what to do for fun and where the best places to eat lunch were, and he showed a previously unknown interest in visiting museums, parks, and botanical gardens.

The only thing that revealed that everything wasn't as good as it appeared was Harry's reaction to magic. He looked away whenever they cast a spell, occasionally even flinching if it caught him off guard, and Draco hadn't even seen his wand since they arrived in Australia. Draco wasn't about to ask, but he wondered if what Harry had done to Theo had left him afraid of what he might do if he picked up a wand again. The idea of anyone being afraid to use magic seemed a bit ridiculous to Draco, but it was the only reason he could think of for Harry's behaviour. Had he thought about it, he'd have expected to scoff and sneer at the very prospect of someone being afraid to use magic, but the only thing he felt whenever Harry looked away from them using magic was a deep sadness.


	5. Chapter 5

Almost six weeks after they reached Sydney, on the day of the March full moon, Draco lounged in his room watching  _The Lion King_ on DVD. He'd had to admit to a fondness for animated films, even though it made Snape raise his eyebrow and shake his head like he thought Draco was crazy, but Harry just said he wanted to watch them all too because he was never allowed as a kid, and Lupin gave some suggestions on what to watch. It was easier to admit to liking something Muggle all the way out in Sydney, where the only people he knew were his housemates and they weren't anyone who could judge him in such a way that made him feel guilty, like he would if his mother or any of his pureblood friends back home found out.

Harry appeared in his open bedroom door halfway through 'I Just Can't Wait to Be King', dressed as he usually was these days in shorts and t-shirt, feet bare, a half-empty tub of strawberries in hand, and looking... kind of adorable, Draco thought. The Australian summer had given Harry a nice tan and something about the shorts and t-shirts gave him a soft look that made Draco want to cuddle him. Which was ridiculously soppy. And queer, but by this point he'd mostly resigned himself to the fact that, as far as Harry was concerned, Draco was queer. As long as he didn't start lusting over other blokes, he figured he could probably handle it. He definitely wasn't completely gay, he knew that for sure every time they visited the beach and he took advantage of dark sunglasses to admire the abundance of bikini-clad women. It was a definite upside to Australia—you never found that many scantily clad women in England; it was just too bloody cold.

"Hey," Harry greeted softly. "I join you?"

Draco gestured to the other side of his queen-sized bed. "Sure."

Harry gave a small smile and came over, sitting and arranging the pillows before leaning back to watch the TV wall-mounted opposite and eat his strawberries, which he held out in a silent offer to share that Draco took him up on. They were alone for the night; Lupin spent the full moons at some shack out in the Australian wilderness and Snape went with him to make sure he got back the next morning without splinching himself.

It was a good film, though he still didn't understand why the girl in the DVD store had gasped with outraged horror when he mentioned that he'd never seen it before. He absolutely did _not_ tear up at Mufasa's death, because Malfoys did not get teary-eyed over animated lions, and he wasn't convinced a warthog and a meerkat could really raise a lion cub without it eating them, but he'd watched enough films by now to realise that he had to accept a certain amount of implausibility in the storylines.

He got a bit distracted during 'Can You Feel the Love Tonight?' by Harry shifting slightly, his arm falling to lay pressed against Draco's. He spent the rest of the film hyper aware of Harry's presence at his side. They hadn't discussed the situation between them since arriving in Australia. Draco wanted to; he wanted to know what Harry meant by his last remark that Draco would "figure it out in Australia". But it'd just never seemed the right time. They needed to settle in, get used to their new life, and then maybe they'd discuss it.

"That was good," Harry said as the film finished. "I'm glad Scar got what he deserved."

Draco snorted. "Too right. Any proper schemer would have made sure Simba died right at the off. And he shouldn't have relied on hyenas either. He brought it all on himself."

Harry looked at him with faint amusement. "I figured you'd be all on board with plots to steal the throne from someone."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Well yeah, sure I am; I'm all for big ambitions, but you've got to do it _right_."

Harry shook his head, but there was the hint of a smile about his lips. "Slytherins."

"Oh what, like you Gryffindorks are any better?"

"Yeah, we don't try to kill people and steal their thrones."

"Sure you don't. I'm sure no Gryffindor has ever done something bad."

Harry opened his mouth, then a haunted look came over his face and he shut it again, eyes flicking to the TV still rolling credits.

"Well," he said quietly, "people are more than their Hogwarts house. Where's the remote? We should turn it off."

Draco dug it out from where it'd got lodged under a pillow and handed it over. Harry ejected the disk and turned the TV off, returning the disc to its box, discarded at the end of the bed, then returned it to the shelf that held Draco's small collection. He didn't turn back, instead looking over the titles on the other cases. As Draco watched him, it occurred to him that maybe now was the right time to figure out what was between them and maybe he should be the one to take the first step. Maybe that's what Harry was waiting for.

"Hey, Harry?"

He hummed to show he was listening but didn't turn around. Draco was grateful, not sure he wouldn't lose his nerve if Harry looked at him.

"Before we left England..." Harry's back stiffened, but Draco didn't notice, gaze fixed on his hands, "when we had that discussion at the safe house... you said... maybe I could figure it—the thing with you—out in Australia. What did you mean by that?"

There was no response from Harry for such a long time that Draco had to look up. He was surprised to find Harry looking at him and Draco was suddenly struck by the fact that Harry was beautiful. It surprised him because beautiful wasn't really a word he'd thought to apply to him before. He was hardly ugly, but with his wild tumble of hair, the glasses that almost never sat straight on his nose, and his complete lack of fashionable clothes, he wasn't what anyone would call conventionally beautiful.

But right now he looked soft and adorable, and his eyes, which Draco would admit to admiring even when he was eleven and hated Harry, were gorgeously bright, and all Draco wanted to do was kiss him.

"I meant that if you still want to, we could have sex and you can see what it's like. And maybe if you do think it's alright, you would figure out if you do like me."

_Love_ , Draco thought. _I love you._ There was really no arguing it anymore, not when Harry stood there looking beautiful. Not when Draco had fled half way around the world to accompany him in evading the Aurors. Not when, in six weeks, Draco had barely thought about the fact that Harry had tortured and murdered someone Draco'd known since he was four, and when he did think about it, it wasn't with complete revulsion and horror at Harry.

But he didn't say that, because being in love with Harry wasn't the same as being able to have sex with him, so what he did say was, "What if I don't like gay sex?"

Harry shrugged, the motion nonchalant but his eyes looking a little disappointed. "Then you don't. Not everyone does. I've sent guys off who didn't like it."

Draco didn't want to be one of those guys. He didn't want Harry to send him away from anywhere.

"You could go home," Harry added quietly, and Draco was off the bed in an instant.

"No!"

Harry started at the vehemence of the word and blinked at Draco as he grabbed him by the shoulders, staring him straight in the eye.

"Harry, I didn't come all this way just because I wanted to see if I could have sex with you. I came here because you're my friend and you need me. If we had sex and it didn't work, I wouldn't just pack up and leave. For one thing I _really_ don't want to get back on a plane."

Harry didn't smile, which is what Draco was aiming for. He lifted his hands and wrapped them around Draco's wrists, but didn't remove them from his shoulders.

"Do you want to have sex with me?"

"Do you want to?"

"I wouldn't offer if I didn't," Harry replied, and then kissed him.

Draco kissed him back. He could do kissing. Kissing was easy, and it was Harry and he'd wanted this for longer than he'd admitted to himself, and besides Harry tasted like strawberries and... and _Harry_. Draco couldn't really name it any other way. It was just Harry and it was better than any other kiss he'd ever had.

His knees hit the bed and he fell backwards. He shuffled back, hit by the very sudden and vaguely panicked thought that he was about to have sex with a _man_ , but then Harry crawled over him and kissed him again, and the thought slipped away. When fingers unbuttoned his shirt and hands slid over his ribs, when his trousers were undone and pushed down with his boxers, when a mouth wrapped around his cock, he didn't think about the fact that it was a man doing it. It didn't matter. As long as it was Harry, then it didn't matter.

Especially not when Harry reminded him of just how good he was with his mouth. It was sinful, it really was, but he stopped far too soon and shifted back up to rest on his hands and knees over Draco.

"No," Harry said when Draco groaned his displeasure, sounding far too amused for a man who was tormenting him, "I'm not taking you all the way this time."

"Why not?" Draco whined. "You're so fucking good..."

"I know," Harry said, "but apparently my lungs aren't so good with it anymore, and anyway I want to fuck—I want you to fuck me."

Draco almost missed it, still lamenting the loss of a warm, wet mouth on his dick, but there was an undertone in Harry's first two words, and the slight but nonetheless worrying lack of breathe that he still got every so often, that pulled him back enough to pay attention and notice the change in the last part.

He wrapped his hands around Harry's arms, feeling his expression turning serious. "No, you don't."

"Yes, I do. That's what—it's what we're—"

"No," Draco said again. "Fuck me."

Harry blinked.

"That's what you want, isn't it? You want to fuck me."

He bit his lip, glancing away but admitting, "Yes."

"Then do that. Don't say to do something you don't want, not with me, not ever."

"I didn't! I want to fuck you, but it doesn't mean I don't want you to do me. I'd just prefer, right now, the other way."

"Then let's."

Harry didn't look sure. "Draco, it's... I just... you said you'd done anal with a girl before, so it's what you're comfortable with."

"You're not a girl. You're Harry, and this is about seeing what I can handle. I know I can handle giving. Let me receive, especially if it's what you want."

Harry worried his lip between his teeth again and Draco could tell he was afraid that doing it like this would put Draco off and ruin Harry's chance of being with him, but Draco knew what he'd said was right.

Harry sighed, nodded, and kissed him hard enough to leave Draco breathless, but he broke it off soon after.

"Back in a sec," Harry murmured, then he was off Draco, leaving him to blink at the ceiling and wonder what the hell was going on. He pushed himself up and half rolled to look at the open door.

"Harry?"

"One sec!"

He could hear him rummaging about, followed by a triumphant noise, and then he was back, now with a bottle of lube in hand. Draco felt his cheeks go pink; for some reason seeing that made what they were about to do seem much more real.

Trying to hide his sudden nerves, he cleared his throat. "You know there's a spell—"

"No."

Draco blinked. Harry's face had shut down with that one, harshly spoken word, eyes darkening behind his glasses, and then he shifted, sighed, and glanced down at his hands.

"Sorry. I don't like it."

"Okay."

Harry glanced at him as if he expected more than that. Admittedly Draco was a bit curious, but Harry's expression made it clear he wouldn't appreciate probing and Draco felt bad for forgetting about Harry's recent dislike of magic. When he said nothing more, Harry came back to the bed, sitting and fiddling with the bottle like he'd lost his own nerve since leaving the room to fetch it. Draco, unwilling to let things end, reached out and plucked it from him, setting the bottle aside for the moment then catching the edge of Harry's t-shirt between his fingers.

"You're wearing too many clothes."

For a moment Harry looked at him blankly, as if he'd completely forgotten why they were there, then a small, sensual smile slid across his face.

"You'd better undress me then."

That was both unexpected and hot, and Draco did as ordered, stealing kisses in the process because that made it easier to forget that he was undressing a man. It was one thing when Harry had been undressing him, but him doing Harry left him unable to ignore the fact that there were flat, straight lines where Draco was used to curves.

Too many straight lines.

"You need to eat more, Harry. I didn't know you'd lost this much weight."

"Shut up, Draco."

Draco did, mostly because Harry kissed him, but he kept the information at the back of his mind to bring up later. For now he just focused on the sensations of having a body against his, the feel of skin familiar under his hands but the press of an erection against his hip decidedly not. He didn't let it put him off. It was new and kind of strange, but then so was having sex with a girl the first time. It was Harry—just like it had been then only this time with the added reassurance that he truly wanted it this time—and Draco wanted Harry so he could deal with new and kind of strange.

And it was good. Weird, he would admit, to feel fingers pushing into him, creating the strange but not entirely unwelcome feeling of being filled and stretched, and then Harry curled his fingers and pleasure unlike Draco'd ever felt shot through him, wrenching a gasp out of him and making his hips jerk.

"Merlin fuck, that was my prostate, right?" he breathed.

"Yup," Harry said and stroked it again and Draco made a sound he was pretty sure he'd never made before, one of pure pleasure and want, and it made him blush because he hadn't even realised he could make such a noise.

He blushed deeper at the unwitting noise of disappointment he made when Harry drew his fingers out, but Harry just kissed him, slow and sweet, then got himself in position over Draco and slowly pushed inside of him. Draco was struck by the sudden thought of _holy fuck there is a_ cock _in my arse_ , and as Harry stilled, letting him adjust to the intrusion, he thought for a moment that he might freak out and shove Harry away because he was not supposed to be doing this.

But he forced himself past it, staring at Harry's face above him as he got used to new sensations, and when Harry asked, "Alright?" he nodded. As long as it was Harry then he would be fine. Screw what he wasn't supposed to be doing, Draco was in love with this man; he'd run half way around the world for him, he could certainly handle this for him.

And it wasn't even that bad. Kind of nice actually when Harry started moving, slow and gentle, and when he pressed against Draco's prostate again it went from 'kind of nice' to ' _holy fuck_ amazing'. He forgot all his misgivings and hesitations and gave himself over to the pleasure, let his hips move in rhythm with Harry's, ran his hands over as much of Harry as he could reach and dug his fingers in when Harry's hand wrapped around his cock. When he finally came, it was with a shout and stars burst across his vision, and he was only half aware of Harry thrusting into him once more before coming as well.

He half expected to freak out afterwards, when Harry drew out, fetched a cloth to clean them both, and then lay at his side with his head resting on Draco's shoulder, but it never happened. There was no sudden realisation of hatred and homophobic panic attack, just the usual post-coital bliss. No, not usual. Better, because it was Harry at his side, not some woman he was going to kick out of bed as soon as it was polite to do so.

_That's it then_ , Draco thought with surprising calm, _I'm a little bit queer and completely in love with him._

He rolled onto his side and wrapped his arms around Harry and, after a moment's hesitation, felt Harry hug him back.

"So are we a thing now?" Draco asked, trailing his fingers over Harry's spine. Harry's head was tucked under his chin and he could feel the warm breath playing against his collarbones.

"Do you want to be a thing?"

"Yes."

"So you like me then? As more than just a friend?"

"Yes." He paused, then said in almost a whisper, "I love you."

He didn't expect Harry to stiffen in his arms nor to respond to that with, "Don't lie to me."

"What? I'm not."

Harry drew back then, meeting his gaze with surprisingly angry eyes. "You don't love me. I'm a whore who's been used and abused, and I'm a murderer, and I'm messed up in the head. No one loves me and I'll be your boyfriend if that's what you want, but don't ever lie to me like that. I'm not lovable."

"Neither am I."

Harry's anger gave way to confusion in an instant. "Don't be ridiculous, of course you—"

"No, I'm not," he interrupted. "I was a Death Eater, I've raped you, I didn't help you escape Voldemort as soon as I first had the chance. I'm a spoilt brat from a family that most of England hates now and... and I'm me."

"But you're brilliant," Harry said as if he couldn't understand why Draco didn't see that, pushing himself up to a sitting position; Draco propped himself up on one elbow, a lingering ache in his arse leaving him unwilling to sit right now. "You were a spy, I needed you to fuck me back then, you were the only bright thing during my time as Voldemort's consort, and we can't choose our family. You're my friend and you've helped me, even after I killed one of your other friends, and you're here in Australia when you could be safe back home with your mum. You're beautiful and amazing and don't say you're not lovable because you are and _I_ love you."

"And you're incredible. You've lived through more than anyone should ever have to and you're still standing. I know sometimes you find it difficult just to get through the day, but you survive. I'm pretty sure I never would have handled your life as well as you have, and that makes you more than amazing. Besides, you're pretty good looking as well. Your hair is a lost cause and you've got the dorky glasses, but you're sort of adorable, you have the most gorgeous eyes I've ever seen, and _I_ love _you_."

Harry's mouth had dropped open into a small 'o' of surprise at his speech and a flush spread up his cheeks, but when Draco finished, he threw himself on him and kissed him firmly on the mouth. It was awkward and they bumped teeth because of Harry's over-eagerness, but after shifting into a better position it was warm and sweet and Draco melted into it.

A little while later, as they fell asleep in each others arms, he decided that this whole queer business really wasn't as evil as he'd always been told.

And Australia wasn't all that bad either really.

* * *

 

**Addendum: Several Days Later**

"Hurry _up_ , Remus."

"I can't find the bloody lube," Remus said, rifling through the drawer by the bed. "What did you do with it last time?"

"I put it back."

"Clearly you didn't."

"Oh for the love of..." Severus grabbed the wand from atop his own bedside cabinet and flicked it. " _Accio!_ "

There was a moment where nothing happened, both men waiting for the bottle to rattle from inside a different drawer or come flying out from the en suite bathroom or from under the bed, but then there was a thump on their bedroom door. They shared a glance then Remus got up, grabbing a discarded dressing gown to tug around himself as he went to the door and opened it an inch. He frowned at the sight of no one standing outside, then glanced down and noticed the bottle on the floor. He picked it up and turned back to Severus, holding it up and raising an eyebrow. Severus groaned, falling back against the pillows and flinging an arm over his face, making Remus chuckle.

"Just try not to think about it," he said, shrugging off the dressing gown and rejoining Severus, sliding a hand over his bare chest and pressing kisses to the man's collarbones. "Especially not right now."

**A Few More Days Later**

Harry sat on his bed, flicking through a computer catalogue. He'd had a computer back in England, but he'd left it behind and hadn't used it all that much to be honest, but the internet was used for everything these days and it seemed like it might a good idea to get a small laptop or something. Draco lounged beside him with a copy of FilmInk, and his door sat open. They both glanced up when Snape appeared there, carrying a small plastic bag that he threw underhand to land just in front of Harry.

"Next time get your own, and stay out of our bedroom."

He turned and left. Baffled, Harry opened the bag, peered inside, then felt his cheeks burn.

"What is it?" Draco asked. In answer, Harry shoved the bag at him. Draco looked inside, his own cheeks going red, and he cleared his throat.

"So, um... that bottle we used last time...?"

"Yeah," Harry muttered.

"I really did not need to know that."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There you have it, folks. The end of 'Queer Business', complete with happy ending.
> 
> I don't know if I'll write more for this universe. Finishing this seems to have finally burnt up the writing binge I've been indulging for a year, but who knows. Maybe something will inspire me and I'll end up writing another side-story, but don't hold your breath waiting.
> 
> In any case, I hope you enjoyed this and thank you for reading!


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